May 31, 2009

  • Tonight feels so cold, and I'm sitting sticky on tawdry covers waiting for someone to reach out.  This kind of gentle jarring happens upon me once in a great haze.  I wade in the midst of some great confusion that, like a pond, might overwhelm me one step closer to the center.  This buzz is that strange nightmare that you wake up to anxious, yet unremembered.  Still sticky, still balmy, and the neighbor man yells drunken to my window in the deep of night.  He startled me, and even now I cannot recall his slurs.