Kitaab

Story from 130826

writing poem 1970-01-01 00:00

%date 130826 00:00

Pacing slowly across my bedroom door, I do not smile or frown. Wandering around my cold apartment floor, with very little sound. The cars outside are loud enough to pull me back inside, but I want to wonder, through my mind inhibitions be out of sight. In the realm I call my own, I can contain my life. Fit it neatly inside a plastic box, unlabeled. All the nitty gritty details, through which the blue water flows, are damp with emotions I cannot seem to hold. Slippery and wet, they ruin all the rest, and the memories of time are no longer perceptible, to me or my kind.