Friday, 24 September 2010

Working on writing again.

The air wasn't any less stifling, and I didn't find it any easier to breathe.
Everything was the same, I could still hear the desperate sobbing I've heard for days, and the twisted hands on sweat drenched sheets were still white and worryingly thin.
There were no sparks or explosions.
It was just a quiet 'click' and the overwhelming desire to close my eyes.


colson said...

Did you deliberately move from prose to poetry?

Anyhow. It is a (short)awesome as well as disturbing read.

mousharilla said...

Short detour, Opa.. and it's just a tiny part of a much longer story stuck in my head :)

MITA DIRAN said...

I love you.