The sin likes still beside me on the bed, smoking. Is it hot, the fire in hell, I wonder. It is hot in my hands when I cup his stubbly chin. It is prickly also.
Friday
Journal Entry No. 12012
The odd hours find me awake at the wheel making my patient way home. The insistent vaguity inside me is still there. It does not go away with the rising of the sun. It does not go to sleep like I do. It is there when I turn the eye inside away from the Sin it has just committed.
The sin likes still beside me on the bed, smoking. Is it hot, the fire in hell, I wonder. It is hot in my hands when I cup his stubbly chin. It is prickly also.
The sin likes still beside me on the bed, smoking. Is it hot, the fire in hell, I wonder. It is hot in my hands when I cup his stubbly chin. It is prickly also.
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It's pretty but what does it mean? You can write about the most mundane thing and make it likable but you knew that already. :/
ReplyDeleteMe too. I find it difficult to comprehend but I find did find your use of words beautiful. Your intelligence with the use of the language is amazing.
ReplyDeletevignette, the really good ones that i follow love writing them.
ReplyDeletei really like this guy's cover of an etta james song
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