Little child sitting on carpet. Big world confusing and mauling her senses with bombastic input, a hundred car crashes in a row. Sun streams through smoke of Mommy’s cigarette. Lowlight. Mists of memories. Huddled in a corner with clouds rolling and all things cease. The child smashes her toy and starts to cry, and everyone comes running. For the rest of her life she smashes her toys and everyone comes running. Utterly fatal. She falls through a trapdoor, tumbling headlong into a mind long ago smashed. Another toy left behind. That’s just my way, she laughs, on the 7:39 bound for Brooklyn. Outside the window everyone she ever loved is dried up, dying in the fog. This is where the old dog was buried, her mother told her, ordering her to remember the spot lest she accidentally dig it up in a hurry to bury another recollection. Children break things, that’s their way; they draw crayon hieroglyphics on white walls and dense black hearts. Malignancy tags along. The best of the brightest smile in backrows of school pictures, second grade clenched fists wearing masks to perfection, slow to anger, no mercy. Forever isn’t forever anymore. Words are spoken in anger and lust confused. Leave the dreams for the dreamers--tonight the bats howl all alone, bags packed, jealous of we the homeless. She finds her way to what holds no value, crystal and glass and steel frilly lace; what’s real in life she bulldozes. If she comes to within mere miles of what she loves her eyes roll back and she begins to tremble and weep uncontrollably on a hard cold floor, crying for a name she handed back in a manila folder; a proud name of subtle jungle savagery. The numbers on her social security card remain the same; they’ve weathered many autumns and husbands…
Happy Wednesday! Bloghoppin' here... Hey, I have an interesting tutorial for you that I have written myself. It is about adding Adsense on your Single Post in XML template. I hope you'll like it! God Bless you!
don't ask --
ReplyDeleteLittle child sitting on carpet. Big world confusing and mauling her senses with bombastic input, a hundred car crashes in a row. Sun streams through smoke of Mommy’s cigarette. Lowlight. Mists of memories. Huddled in a corner with clouds rolling and all things cease. The child smashes her toy and starts to cry, and everyone comes running. For the rest of her life she smashes her toys and everyone comes running. Utterly fatal. She falls through a trapdoor, tumbling headlong into a mind long ago smashed. Another toy left behind. That’s just my way, she laughs, on the 7:39 bound for Brooklyn. Outside the window everyone she ever loved is dried up, dying in the fog. This is where the old dog was buried, her mother told her, ordering her to remember the spot lest she accidentally dig it up in a hurry to bury another recollection. Children break things, that’s their way; they draw crayon hieroglyphics on white walls and dense black hearts. Malignancy tags along. The best of the brightest smile in backrows of school pictures, second grade clenched fists wearing masks to perfection, slow to anger, no mercy. Forever isn’t forever anymore. Words are spoken in anger and lust confused. Leave the dreams for the dreamers--tonight the bats howl all alone, bags packed, jealous of we the homeless. She finds her way to what holds no value, crystal and glass and steel frilly lace; what’s real in life she bulldozes. If she comes to within mere miles of what she loves her eyes roll back and she begins to tremble and weep uncontrollably on a hard cold floor, crying for a name she handed back in a manila folder; a proud name of subtle jungle savagery. The numbers on her social security card remain the same; they’ve weathered many autumns and husbands…
ReplyDeleteHappy Wednesday! Bloghoppin' here... Hey, I have an interesting tutorial for you that I have written myself. It is about adding Adsense on your Single Post in XML template. I hope you'll like it! God Bless you!
ReplyDeletego away
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