It once again is one of those nights where I remember what I used to be. The waves of sadness and regret crash over the chitinous bars of the living cage. A storm rages just outside those bars its icy rain a cold echo of what once was. I lay my hand against the bars feeling their insectile movement and softness. The clicking grows louder at my touch and the segments writhe and twitch.

I close my eyes desperate to clear the site of the living bars from my mind only to have my mind come up with a worse picture. Shaking my head I open them again to watch the worm like carapaces of the bars twist as they snap to life shuddering with new found freedom. Just beyond them something is shaking free of the desert sand. Rising and stretching towards the oil slick sky it struggles up from the mud with a preternatural shriek.

6 thoughts on “Tired

  1. Dear KD you sent me to the dictionary twice in this piece. But I was very engaged with your writing. I am curious about what is out there in the ‘desert’? Hope or nightmare?

    1. Dictionaries are good things. Fortunately for me what’s out in the desert is just that… out there. I tend not to worry about it when I am inside. lol.

    1. Thanks for the suggestion but sleeping pills never worked for me. It just makes the dreaming while I am awake worse which it definitely does not need to be.

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