Thursday, October 28, 2010

Piper's Father

damn boots! Every morning I squeeze my whole life into Steel Toe. For what? Roxy says the trash covers me so thick she can't find my dick. She'll leave me soon, too. And I'll be alone again. The kids hate me. Women think I am trash just because I collect it for a living. To hell with everybody. Yeah, I could boast that I've still got one son-of-a-bitch pal that sticks with me: Migraines. I've learned to make these headaches my friend because before the awful Pain sets in, I know ecstasy; I have this vision. I am always welcomed to enter a garden made of glass. The grass is green shards that I am able to walk over without getting cut. I walk through the garden. Moonlight reflects off a glass water fall. A kind woman with long, red hair made of glass takes my hand and says, "Breathe." Her hand doesn't shatter when I hold it. That feels so nice. Hell, it's the only chance for me to get something true and pure and beautiful, makes a man feel alive. Then the vision escapes me, and I suffer. I lower into the depths of the sofa with my whole body clenched like the devil's bleeding fist. When the pain leaves me, I get ready for work. Curse you head, and I stuff my feet into these

1 comment:

Libby Walkup said...

Enjoyed this story. I like the voice in it and the way it comes back around.