i hear daddy downstairs practicing the sitar. distant sirens wailing down sunset. i have my own emergency.
monica's eyes shift from chocolate to pitch black swiftly. monica has a child who destroyed her life, much in the same way as i destroyed my mother's.
Monica with the violent velvet tongue.
the throbbing we do.
I can't see you anymore. she said. And I shattered.
As your therapist I mean.
I could hear this shopaholic wife with sad eyes and dry skin cough on the other side of the door.
I still straddled her.
photos borrowed from bruno dayan and http://ghostwerld.wordpress.com/
Like your header. Keep writing!
ReplyDeleteyes. It will end badly. End it now or you'll regret it.
ReplyDeleteYour words are magnetic. Powerful piece. A dead end road we should all learn to embrace if we don't plan on getting the hell out.
ReplyDeleteI really like the pictures, and very powerful words indeed. Thank you for checking out my blog!
ReplyDelete