Bringing yourself together this morning, allowing each thought a bid for the day, you negotiate the whole person while bathing, knowing who you'll be when you set on your way.
You're passed on the road by searching, splintered faces who peer in cars for some hints or traces. You imagine them planning with slow mindless compares to define a self that feels solid and clear.
The faces don't bother you - like they once did. You know you're not real and not really here. You're made up of thoughts of the highest bid and drive towards the day splintered, not clear.
Driving Towards the Day
- miniscreams
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- Joined: Thu Oct 16, 2014 2:46 am
Driving Towards the Day
"You're on earth. There's no cure for that." ~Samuel Beckett
Re: Driving Towards the Day
This flows so seamlessly and takes on such a potent and deeply disturbing tone that it draws you in and keeps you riveted from the first word to the last. I loved it and would love to know where the he'll this came from and if there's more in whatever place you pulled it from?
If I wrote it you can read it unless you sound like Fran Drescher.
- miniscreams
- Member
- Posts: 21
- Joined: Thu Oct 16, 2014 2:46 am
Re: Driving Towards the Day
Thanks Zeb, my fellow Chicagoan. Your feedback makes a contributor feel good about posting. I wrote this in verse but was not sure how easily it would read.
"You're on earth. There's no cure for that." ~Samuel Beckett