My Diary: Feeling Nonplussed In The Fading Light Of A False Reality

Neither June or I‭ ‬went out.‭ ‬With the weather transformed into a line of just washed petticoats it was too wet to hold hands with the tree people even when the sacred grove opened out as if a mouth about to speak‭ ‬-‭ ‬I was quite pleased when it didn’t as I hadn’t bothered to learn my lines.‭ ‬I looked through the raindrops algorithmically changed to dragonfly eyes and watched the fortune cookie ladies and mop bucket gentlemen enter and exit the stage.‭ ‬As I stared into the almost infinity,‭ ‬June surrounded herself with a necklace of wild west wagons and spoke to a voice that had entered the room like a cartoon cloud‭ ‬-‭ ‬She said it was the past wrapped in the present and I said it was an angel trapped in a tar pit and subsequently threw myself down a well to retrieve the feather covered spindle.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s