Ink around eyes fills the end of the tunnel
A glass of water was brought to her nightstand when the sun went down every evening. The water would be reflecting from the green cylinder lamp of glass as its ember-colored light illuminated only her bedside. One cannot repeat the past no matter to what extent its preserved. Her TV tray sat in the corner of the bedroom next to her water. Old prescription bottles with expiration dates from decades ago faded the illegible print and the remaining pills lost their potency soon after. Were the letters by the bottles addressed to her or was she writing a draft now as gray as the dust which blanketed ever inch except the small circle on the nightstand.
The faculty of perception is manipulated when
Carefree, great big blue Birds fly