clouds of haze loom
thick like Amazonian sand
clearest in the screen glare yet
hidden from our eyes by minds
Why was I so excited for this?
to rush is our default
to rush run swipe think sink jump slam
stress is an old friend
"content" is an old forgotten acquaintance
Gray is the state
while the clouds loom above
drifting ever closer
to envelop the minds
Why can't this day be over already?
dense clouds
a fire would be nice
choke
find what makes fine
one minus a million cells
what's the opposite?
I can't take this.
oxygen leaves
will it ever return?
brain matters
are they worth the guillotines?
I want to go home.
these clouds
this silence crushes
every soulsong
SCREAM SHOUT SAY SOMETHING I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE
I know you've felt them
the silences
the clouds
hover/loom/suffocating
hunting in the silence
waiting to descend with you
sink in deep
choke the veins
I know you've felt them
even though I don't know you
but I know you feel
and you must do something about it
Everything is okay.
About the Creator
Em E. Lee
Writer-of-all-trades and self-appointed "professional" nerd with an infinite supply of story ideas and not nearly enough time to write them down. Lover of all media, especially fiction and literature. Proud advocate of the short story.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
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