Was etched deep into her skin
As crisscrossing scars
Blistering when touched, but a
Marvel when placed on canvas
The lights haven’t been on for weeks. A hot meal and central heating were privileges we couldn’t afford. We considered our small TV, sitting on top of a box labeled “shoes” in our empty living room, an exotic item.
It stared blank faced at the two of us.
His body protected me from the cold. Rough carpet rubbed against my exposed skin. We were a tangled mess of heat and pleasure under a single, tattered blanket.
Outside the wind screamed and rain pelted the roof as if upset we could find joy—delicious joy—in a time meant to break us. A time we’re supposed to want more.
… is enough.
Her headphones spilled music into her.
She closed her eyes and watched her thoughts shoot across the blackness of her mind, but the music stood in their path like a slab of concrete. They shattered against it, exploding into shiny bits and fading as if never there.
Window eye level
City lights blurring
Greens into yellows
Yellows into Whites
Hypnotic, lulling me
Somewhere into myself
A late post today. Spent most of the day in the city and this is what I wrote on my commute home.
A little thunder
Shaking the concrete jungle
Is Mother Nature
Jabbing her elbow in my
Ribs, reminding me what’s real
“We’re in paradise,” they said. “Unhappiness doesn’t exist here.”
As they smiled and ruffled my hair,
I felt darkness overtake
The last bastions of light
In my soul.
“Yes,” I said. “We’re in paradise.”
Picture by: Gerald Friedrich