Cold, shivering; need dark chocolate to melt within my veins to soothe my heart. Saturday’s Whitman’s gift is gone–was yesterday, evenly divided: two layers, two days.
Twenty years of Christmases spent in coffee, cigarettes, cold and chocolate. Running on caffeine and sugar while I evaporate into ice crystals that slip through the cracks in this old barn. Laughing to think that somewhere I am a sudden snow squall that sticks to someone’s warm fuzzy hat. How much do I lose every year of my body and mind? I grow thin and lean, move quickly. Thoughts flip like hand drawn cartoons in sequence but with little relevance. Or maybe, much.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Me-Thinks you slipped into my mind again. I might have written that today. But you did, and did it well. Thanks!