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26.3.08

6.3.08

Terror

She stands 3 feet tall and full of mischeif. Bright pigtails trail down her back. Large green eyes see everything, remember all words, things you wish would be forgotten. Her red Dora the explorer shirt clashes with the bright pink tutu at her waste. A tiny hand holds a magical wand topped with a delicate star. She is the ruler of her own kingdom. Mom, and Dad, bow to her whims and wails. She has been bribed by enough chocolate and happy meals that it is a certainty that diabetes is less than a year away. Perhaps she is kin to the Queen of Hearts?

I call her Terror.

5.3.08

Is he dead?

Indications say yes.

He makes no sound.

He lies, unmovable.

And they kill him again, and again.

An unruly axe in a passionate hand.

The center of a small universe.

THWAK.

Goes the axe.

THWAK. THWAK. THWAK. THWAK. THWAK. THWAK. THWAK. THWAK.

Killing the dead man.

All is calm.

3.3.08

Monday

I have not thoughts. My mind is numb today. Nothing is possible, except perhaps, drooling, and rocking. Trapped in a shell, not like a not… more like a soft taco, filled with meat, bones left in. I would be work to eat, to get, to understand. If you can find me.