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Thursday, February 14, 2013

WHEN I LIVED IN THE APARTMENT ABOVE THE FALLOUT

I am sore.

I don't mind so much that my body rings with aching, but my mind. An icy fog has claimed it and I want to think clearly, but it hurts. My thoughts are blocked, left unpried, unwon to discovery and feeling, I cannot let them loose, cannot free them to speak. The white and black faces of the piano keys smirk at me, shrouded by deep hued, Wesley wood. Maybe if I knew how to play, or even if I didn't and I was alone in this apartment, I could sit at the wood-chipped bench and touch those bells, sewing songs that somehow capture a patchwork of the engulfing thoughts drowning my head. My hair is loosely piled on my head, untamed as ever. The gas fireplace to my right is blue and shadowed, dead and cold. Straight ahead, the tall window facing the rooftop, is a picture of glitter powdering from above in thin streams through sunlight...

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