Menu

Junkie Shoes (3rdish Revision)

Junkie Shoes

I am not sure how to describe what it is that I want:

There were a few days this semester when, even on the commute, I felt happy.

How would I describe those days?  And why this poverty of words?

I hope my children do not experience this poverty–or the feeling of it–whether the lack is real or not. But more than that, I wish them more than a few days a semester wherein they feel happy. And if they can’t have that, I wonder why I’ve done this at all.

But on a few days, that hollow inside me, carved out empty like the soles of a junkie’s shoes, was filled with what I think is known, by the few who possesses it, as joy.

The only thing I know like that is getting high. I know where to acquire what one needs to get high,

but where does one acquire joy? And what are the paraphernalia of its implementation?

 

I came here because I wanted something, but I can’t remember what that is.

No comments

Leave a Reply

The House of…

The House of the Bloody Hand   Five little monsters jumping in my head One fell out and now…

Zombie Drafting #2

“I want to kill. I mean, I…

423 0

Zombie Drafting

“I want to kill. I mean, I…

315 0

The House of…

The House of the Bloody Hand   Five little monsters jumping in my head One fell out and now…

Zombie Drafting #2

“I want to kill. I mean, I…

423 0

Zombie Drafting

“I want to kill. I mean, I…

315 0