Prose – Thistle Thoughts

Visions Again

Lie awake, craving the taste of lakewater and the scent of September rhubarb.

I am a burden with a mouth.

Hey everybody! A dear friend of mine has done a truly wonderful reading of my latest Jam File piece, “Benchmarked“.

Last night I spoonfed a dying man oatmeal. I sponge bathed him even though he was already clean.

Being sick all the time is some bullshit,
Lemme tell you.

I think I’ve transcended pain flare-ups.
I’ve been husked.

Somebody’s fingerprints
might leave a message.

We’ve been running on fumes the past couple of days.

Your body and mind go through a transitional phase in March.

This winter has been a deep freeze.