scrawls
still cheaper than therapy*


17.1.11
a cat in sunshine, a crow on a high breeze. A lizard on a warm rock. I stretch and curl and know i have time left. My skin is oily from long days, my eyes tight from not sleeping, somewhere between my shoulder blades, there is a tightness, and my hips ache. I feel much older than i used to do, and more appreciative, to be found as my own long-forgotten friend. I know i am here. I know this is real. I am grounded by the sore spots, by the graggering of my bones, and grateful for them, in my room of clean white and brown wood and yellow cloth.

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scrawled @ 09:40






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