tattidorjan
If the sea ever curdled and it's smell turned bitter, then it would smell just like autumn. That rotten, soggy decompsing phase when the world smells like death and spring is just too far away.
Snap back! Snap back. Step away from the edge, step away from your misery that you wallow in so fondly. Snap back from reality and join the collective delusion.
You are blinded by the glint of the prize, the trophy you're fighting for. It's not so bright in your bedroom cupboard.
A city is a wasteland in its own right. My city is. There's so much to walk by and ignore, so much space wasted by buildings with no purpose and filled with another person's trash. Within this crowded mess are few places I actually need.
Approach depravity as a curiosity. It is the only way. We cannot deny its existence and we should not glorify it. Mass murder, gun lust, xenophobia, greed in a world with starvation... Do not ignore it.
"Don't even get me started on the Policy."
"While you are in the stand, I'm afraid I must insist."
"Very well, your honour."
"Where exactly do your misgivings lie?"
" 'Round about the place where the dead bodies are."
I believe it is the sound they make that first drew my attention. The clap that echoed through the walls repeated even as it ended. My shoes, all shoes I had previously known, so silent. I had to wonder: Why did they try to drown out our voices? What these shoes were saying so loudly?
"I am here. I am here. I am here."
The streets are paths of dirt, the buildings her trees and in a moment she feels home. Time wanders beside her, her minutes given to her lost little steps. Faces and leaves. Wander long enough and all becomes the same.
Putt putt putt. The bee swings through the drunken trees, veering slightly as it changes direction, the weight of it's arse creating a drag that holds it back.
It propells itself by small rapid farts, don't you know?
The bus left. With it went my dreams and freedoms, my last chance for luxury.
I didn't catch the flight to Thailand and ended up in my dressing gown on the floor.
I almost had fun.
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writing since 2010 · 61 entries · 57 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Tatti showed up.
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57days written
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