(no subject)

[bonbons]

I’m growing used to my disjointed social life; succumbing to myself. Separated from most everybody, I spend a lot of time paddling through thoughts. So much of my days are spent gnawing with closed lips, in silence but for sweet talk with a dog who is more a companion than many now gone, now hovering hallucinations in a vision-impaired memory. She takes me on walks; we share the seasons-passing, always passing; we dress for rain and hope for snow. We return home, trip, and plunge into yet another book on a list of many and more. Church bells have become ingrained, calling me somewhere to some future forgotten-stumbling without direction as lines form, breasts frown.

“Its coming on Christmas, they’re cutting down trees, putting up reindeer, singing songs of joy and peace.
I wish I had a river I could skate away on.”