:: gagging on stale morning air (in praise of the nightmare)


you: the two words you spoke audibly after this morning’s nightmare to
which you woke up, just as the sun began to rise behind those typical
three-rivers clouds.

earlier, it was raining hard, and you got
up to shut the window and pull your bible off of the window-sil so that
it wouldn’t get wet. it was still dark out, but not nighttime dark. you
know, the kinda dark that it gets just before it gets light. dark, but
not dark. light, but not light. somewhere in between.

it’s in
that somewhere-in-between that the nightmare broods and is birthed. she
knew it was coming and everyone was there (that’s why she gathered us).
not even the fake blue sky in the fake green landscape lit with the
fake gold light from the fake burning sun could prevent it. everything
was fake but this. time to say good-bye, you know? good-byes are sad,
you know? it’s hugs all around and now it’s your turn. her breathing
becomes more labored and that soon-to-be-ninety-six-year-old pair of
lungs are working hard. she crumples in your arms and the words are
there, mumbled into her ear “_____ ___”.

(that didn’t make sense, say it the hell again before it’s too late!)

thank you.

(too late, dammit.)

and with that, friday october the nineteenth began.

the sun is up now.

and so are you.


Author: thephonewasmadeofjelly

reviving xanga thru wordpress (2002-the present).

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