Monday, June 25, 2012

Collection Of Writings

Annoyance - Anger - Rage

Red shelled flying creatures
Zipping drunkenly through my safe space
Their noise, a low drone
Crashing and picking themselves up again

Shit, I scream, ducking my head. As these unidentified flying objects swarm closer to the ground, each lap around us. I see the shell, a burnt orange, a warning sign. My heart pounds, not races. No, it is a steady, consistent thump that starts in my head and ends in my stomach. You are not here. No, the flying things took you away. All that is left of you is the shell of your lifeless body, burnt orange, wingless.

One, in the background

1 comment:

Dorothy Explor'r said...

:) def diggin' this.