horizontal again
like so many times before the terror takes over the blood, the organs, seeps in the bones
a stew of adrenaline.
fight or flight fight or flight fight or flight fightflightfitflgtflitigiftt
heart is pounding, breath is audible, it's cause I am under the covers and it's hotter here, take your head out
relax, let the sweat on your face dry, go to bed like a normal woman your age and forget this ever happened.
forget it.
Outside this window I can hear the air. In the darkness bright orange fruits, ruddy avocados hang heavy, they are cold at night, they sleep like human hearts, heavy, pulling, alive in the blackness.
Raccoons run across this roof. I hear their little feet above my head. I am hungry for dinner, but I will stay here, horizontal till sunrise.
It's the feeling of being skinless, chicken meat raw, without the skin, fleshy, wet and structureless
that's about as human as it gets here in this house. Pushed up against the unstable mountain side, with citrus and cacti and wildflowers. A house shell that holds one man, eight surf boards, one motorcycle, five automobiles and years, decades of sadness
the mud slid before, once killing three sleeping people here. Right here where I am laying
horizontal now.
have you ever held a bird in your hands with it's wings flapping so violently
you think they'll just snap off?? It's scary and urgent and messy.
my heart is like that too:
a dead skinless blob of bird
and
a live desperate flapping of a bird
it's dark and i can hear everything outside the lightweight door.
fumbling, delusion, hopelessness
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