As a little girl, I used to pour ash in circles on my belly, to ward off dead babies. I called on ancient symbols my childish mind had no patience for and ended up summoning something terrible.
A child still i came to apprentice myself to an old hag of the forest, but then, before i could leave to pursue my own mystery the witch died, forcing me to stay and carry on in her stead.
Nothing ever forces you. You live as the slave of your own choices, always.
There used to be a time in my life when I thought liking the same songs could really be enough. To be fair, I mooched more than my fair share of good songs off you.
Balcony. Wall moss in bloom. Still reminiscence. Still listening. When I pass.
Stupid, silly song. Not his best. When I was first learning to run, I used to see this man observing me from the shadows of my life, often, but I never mistook his interest for love. It seemed unbecoming. Love was only one among a myriad of unnecessary things in his sword.
Belly rumbles. Turn inward and find a welling-up balloon crucified upside-down on sun-scorch white-welt field of vision.
There's inside me now this crazy mix of young and old. I still quote, then remember what I name is long dead. Meanwhile, my bus rambles on. Emotion swells, though it will burst before morning.
These are things you wouldn't understand even if we somehow suddenly spoke a common language.
Shame. Bowie's Blue Jeans just came on. Guess there's always a nicer riff around the corner, trouble is you'll break your neck if you go following it.
Just random for #ttt today. Thanks and hiya @ablaze. Hope you're somewhere sunny. Or someone sunny. Or both.
