16.363. MY SAVAGE DESPERATION

MY SAVAGE DESPERATION

The birds have gone from off the

ledge. There was supposed to be a

band, in town, somewhere today, at

the bandshell, but I heard nothing.

No matter. At noon and nine the fire

whistle blows; a sort of central

notification for a town still afraid 

from its last conflagration. Any

of that has GOT to be better than

my savage desperation.

-

At night, all night, for me, this all

turns ghoulishly wrong : my mind reels,

expanding my imagined troubles into

new and worse grotesqueries. I have 

nowhere to turn, no friends, no kin, 

here, in a place like this. The power 

is worse than the wish.

-

I'm pretty sure, for me, this is the end of

of the line. I'm scared and I'm desperate;

like in a savage way, when a glass no

longer will hold water. (And the

birds are gone from the ledge).