Wasting water in a morning shower singing Polish Christmas carols and eyes closed watching colors, shapes transform themselves from lips to eyes and back again and green to blue and black. Is blue a guilty color?
Couldn’t find the eyelid wallpaper I’m used to; shut your eyes real tight and what comes back through all the years as if invention weren’t invented? Mine is beige with brown geometric forms. Tiled, repeated; small pattern of the whole.
Feel torn like an old t-shirt into something connected by threads around the holes.
Wondering if the seeming lack of empathy was born out of religion or was comforted by it to think that all will balance in the end, all is fair. But there must be an ever after for that to be.
And then reality begins again and there’s not time to wonder anymore.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I love it.
Sorta knew you would appreciate it, Owen. You have that same flow of thought pattern.
Wonderful, stream of consciousness piece. I just love it too.
Don’t you love the freedom to let words just tumble out as they want? They either appeal to the creative spirits or make folks look at us funny…