I woke up crying, frightened by a dream I had, feeling sad.
Rejected. Dejected.
"Go away!" they said. "No one wants you here."
How silly it is to feel like this because of people formed in a dream's hazy mist. But as the tears flowed, I realized that I had
An Emotional Belch.
I sat behind the wheel of my little car, happy, content, at peace with one and all. Until some idiot dispbeys vehicular law and is crude and lewd and... My heart's racing. My hands are shaking. And the words that I vomit are vile and foul things.
When the demons have passed, I realized that I had
An Emotional Belch.
"Oh excuse me! Did that just erupt from the deepest pit of my soul?"
That Emotional Belch. That strange concotion of things I can't express in the starch-stiff crispiness of civilized hypocracy?
"Oh please, oh please, you must forgive me. "
There's a lot down there. Compressed into tiny ulcitic balls that just pop out when...oops!
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The Subtle Taste of Midnight
RandomMidnight. The Witching Hour. The time when dreams come a-calling, whether or not you're asleep. TSTM is a collection of poems, short stories, musings, night owl rants, and whatever bullshit my sleep-deprived mind can cobble together before the sun r...
