Sleep, Hear Me, Please Be With Me
The silence is lighter, though my eyes hang heavy. The 0 in front of the angry red numbers on my alarm clock taught me needlessly, I know I need sleep. But it dances from me with silent giggles, screaming for me to reopen my eyes when my tired muscles give in.
Thoughts swirl like a potion of anxiety and judgment, the crash is coming soon but first, the fidgeting keeps me wide awake for hours. These hours are more terrifying than the witching hours when the night is breaking apart like sharded glass right before my eyes as I beg for sleep; I pray for Mr. Sandman to visit me, even if he smacks me across the face to bring me sleep I would weep with happiness. My breaths are slowing as the sun gets closer and closer to the crust of land where my house is, sleep is approaching me as if he will finally embrace me, allowing me to finally rest.
Yet, I doubt he will embrace me, he is more fickle and jealous than a toddler whose mother took away his favorite toy. My eyes shutting and soft snoring steals away his toy.
I suppose a coffee will have to do.
Sweltering
Beads of sweat formed on the nape of my neck, falling down my spine and causing my shirt to stick to my skin. It was as humid as it is hot, and with the sun beating down upon me like a demon from hell, there was nothing more that I wanted than a cool glass of water.
The sun was high in the sky, shining hellishly down as a few stray clouds did very little to shelter me from the heat. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I squinted up towards it, craning my neck at nearly 90 degrees just to take a look at the sun. It was unrelenting, and eventually I had to look down lest my eyes begin to burn.
Shading my eyes with one hand, I sucked in a puff of humid air and brought my other arm upwards towards my face. On it was a watch with metal warmed by the sun, and on it's face it displayed the time of day, which was almost exactly.....
Inheritance
The house seemed so quiet, but not to these two
the two who looked at each other as the rays of sun
slipped under the shade.
Sunlight that engulfed the dust in the air and barely warmed
the cold stained oak floors. These two looked at each other, dressed for
the cold of February but nothing could warm them for the
task they needed to do.
They found their mother a week before, laid on the floor dead
from an aneurism and not found for four days later. Her body bloated with natural gases and bodily fluids building from bacteria eating away
at the body.
Now she was gone, the only thing filling the room besides the cold and sunlit dust in the air was the bloated guilt of children who should have checked on their mother sooner.
The older one, dark haired like their mother, strode to the window shade
letting in the light and warmth and spreading, lighting the room where they needed to work.
Work with cleaners and brushes and hopefully warm them from the cold guilt that settled on them as they thought of their inheritance that they knew nothing about. And as they looked at the floor, as the sunlight filled the room, they look at the last item of their inheritance, the stained spot on the cold floor that was their mother as she left this earth...
A slightly open window/ A partially drawn blind
hey're still going on down stairs.we can hear them through the window that we've left barely open a comrpomise between letting out the days odours and encouraging a gentle breeze to part from remaining swelter of the day. It's actually rather mild now but the fan has been instructed to move to and fro all the same: a sentry of any heat whcih may wish to impose on our slumber.
Yes I can still hear them down there,
though the melodies that have overpowerd the whirring of the fan have begun to subside from light rock to the likes of Louis Armstrong.
According to the forrgone laughter I suspect that even the most eager conversationalists have given in to their fatigues or else sought other ambitions than sitting around the smokers table.
A game of billiards is in tow. I can hear the sound of those spherical stones gently knock one another as they humbly exhibiting Newton's laws and trigonomic reigeims.
Anyway, my room mate has just fallen asleep on the bunk beneath me and I'm feeling inclined to do the same up here.
May your dreams be welcoming for whenever it is that you close your eyes.
Climbing the Hill
The seconds inch by as I fill the void of silence with the simulated moans of the busty oiled woman. The moon watches disappointedly as I race from my problems with fast-moving fingertips. Hypnotically swaying, the glow of the greasy bodies dance on my bloodshot eyes as my hands go. I feel it coming as the memories begin to peek through the mind-numbing images. Your smile as you clasped my hand in yours for the first time and said it felt natural. The smell of your sweater as you wrapped it around me after noticing the slightest shiver. The softness of your breath as you neared me to kiss my lips for the first time. My legs shook with painful pleasure as the thoughts of you burst within me like fireworks, and everything was dark and sensitive, and the credits started to roll.
I wake to the dim light of my my room. My dogs stir as I sit up, happy that I'm awake. I go to into the bathroom and take quick shower, put on boxers and a t-shirt, then brush my teeth. I take the dogs out afterwards. I stand in the dim winter light watching them play. When we head back inside I begin to make broth and toast for myself and I settle down to work on my crafting for a while. I work on a bracelet s my dogs sleep, and ininfomercials play softly in the next room.