Thursday, December 11, 2014

6142. I AM DISLOCATED

I AM DISLOCATED
My reach is out of reach; the sedate manners
of the sun and moon have calmed me now. It
is six in the morning, and everything around me
remains dark  -  cold and wet, and dark. This
chunk of coffee tries as it can to placate my
anxious mind. What if it never gets light again?
-
December is so good for that  -  those weeks before
official Winter which command anyway that they are
Winter  -  you be damned. The new cold air and
wind again, bringing forth everything almost as
noxious and frozen as a bad dream would bring.
-
So, I'll sit, and to Hell with the rest  -  with a 
lightbulb on, at my side, I can read and write, I
can think through this effort, can weather
this fight, to try and somehow make 
something of myself anew.


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