I have a closet, under some stairs, around a corner, through the darkling wood, overgrown with vines that sport glistening thorns that drip poison and reaching for poor unwary souls who wander too close...I have this closet where I put things that are true but do not belong here, in this place of shade, flowing wader, this place where I wanted less to voice my plaints and more to offer and find connection in the Blue Nowhere.
Swift, deft, I detach these pooling shades and fling them into the closet, slamming it shut before the moans of these abandoned, cloistered pieces of me can reach my ears, slow me, draw me into their clutches.
I'm in it tonight.
I'm having a yard sale on 5/23. My house is a nightmare.
ReplyDeleteSorry, Mizz Suzy, but I ain't buyin' - I have enough crap to cart around as it is.
ReplyDeleteI want to open that door, to reach in with tanned hand, to draw you... out.. shade you.. give you fresh, sweet water to sip. Then drink. Then, [ready?] devour.
ReplyDeletePoison will not deter me. I've enough of it bled into my own mere existence that , mayhap, I am Immune...
Immunity aside. Doesn't matter. Becaude...
i'm reaching... in.. and in.. and in.. and turning the closet-door handle...