Those chapters that you flip through ….in a dictionary; the thumb-cuts at letters to save time; shut the dictionary—snap! Then open again …..Electra ….like Alice they recall through the pages. They do not exist. She is lost in that vast abyss of nothingness ….invisible
nobody sees her.she doesn’t exist —she slammed the door on her but they didn’t feel it….quality of life —who has the right to rob anyone of that? The will ….of the human spirit is the individual’s right to be. All stars in the galaxy.
There was this sense ….like a compass. The needle. It just wiggled there—like the Bermuda Triangle. And with it, the scent of the riding saddle from the back of the primary blue Hyundai hatchback ….his autobiography stolen from the library ….on the passenger seat…. a dizzy surreal sick waxing feeling with prickles of electric on face and hands. Sweat. Fear. Dry mouth.
Like waking up to a whole new reality that everybody has been covering up
Who was that?
What is that? Who is what
—who was what?
No comments:
Post a Comment