Hunger

Help

You can’t sleep?  I can’t sleep either.  Let’s can’t sleep together.

Do you ever stay up late at night and all you can do is stare at the ceiling and try to decide whether the castle you built is too strong and whether that’s a good or a bad thing?

Do you ever stay up late at night and think about bad things you’ve done to people and wonder if they think about them as often as you do?  How do you go about apologizing, and how do you get them to listen?

Do you ever stay up late at night and think about the one time you accidentally and only partially crushed a ladybug and you felt so bad you almost cried, during the morning, with a beard on your face and all your muscles and deep voice and piercings and tattoos and bravado don’t mean anything when you feel like that.

Do you ever stay up late at night and fight fight fight to want to wake up the next day?

Do you ever wish you were better?  Wish  you could stop or start or change?  Wish you could feel?  Wish you could stop feeling, even just for an evening?  Wish you had or did or hadn’t or didn’t?  Imagine what life would be like if you had or did or hadn’t or didn’t?

Do you ever see faces in the patterns of the walls near your useless bed?  What do they look like?  Mine look sad and scared, like they don’t know what they did to get trapped in the wall and they have just realized that they may never get out, that the rescue of better days might just not come, or that it may have already come and gone and it might not come around again.

They are distorted, and for some reason they usually look like female humans or male monsters.  Neither is very comforting.

There’s not really an end, is there?

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This entry was published on October 24, 2012 at 23:13 and is filed under Prose. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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