writing and words and wondrous bewitching life. topics concerned with here, among others.
for years i had been dreaming of flying and waking and sleeping and flying and waking again. ceaselessly. for days i crossed cobblestones directionless, stumbling about vacant as a shipwrecked boat left to bake in the sun. winds blew through me, tinting my skin the grayish blue of a stormy sea, a bruised eye, some birds. night turned to morning and light ripened and faded and slipped under the windowsill in endless shadows and cycles of silent sameness. once back in the room, i lay still and paralyzed with alarm at the thought of my life, the red carpet blindingly amplified the sun searing savagely through the glass and she said "you'll get used to it" with the snark of a bird that could eat my child. i shivered, teeth jumping and dancing like loose old marionettes in my mouth, bats flinging themselves wildly against the walls of my head, a cathedral sprung up at the base of my throat and sounded the call to worship.
