© 2009 Lynsey

104 – Over the wastelands…

Awaken. 4:37. A Tasman gale flings handfuls of rain against the window. Sounds like sand. I hear individual droplets hit over the roar of the gale. I shiver. I ache. I lapse into the madness. Dreaming. Dreaming of white sand dunes. Thin bleached seabird skeleton. Crush the skull between my fingers and thumb a droplet of blood from a sharp edge cherry-red the sun burns down white

Awaken. 6:09. Fragile. Dry. Aching. Stumble to the bathroom. Ache. Scrubbing the aspirin coating my teeth. Swaying slightly. Pull covers back over me, shivering, sweating, sleep. The gale roars dreaming of antlers white weathered cattle skulls ashen turning aching hearing breathing someone runs blurred blurring calling no words just cold cold cold

Awaken. 8:22. My eyes stuck together. Skin is dry, stretched. Wedding ring feels loose. Cold. Head roars with the gale. Shuffle for water, uncertain balance. Swaying, I walk up hill back to bed. Aching. I shiver. I listen. The gale without, the tempest within. Sleep deserts me. I hear my breath, whispers. The house creaks. Protests. Aches. I try not to cough. Not to swallow. Cold.

Fear. Age. Sickness. Madness. Alone. Cold.

Manifesto
05. Every day is now. The present moment.
28. Every day you will be tested.
50. Every day has an ending.

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