my bladder fried

May 21, 2012


Weeds are green. Indigenous plant life. Squirrels. Generations ago. They were the same. And the trees that were their home. Are gone. Birds flew in skies. That hovered just above. And it seemed good.

There is a stream. Underground. Buried. To build the homes. That it now floods. But I can’t dip my fingers. Into the cold rush. The lush woods. By a tree. Where for thousands of years. No man had stood.

And I sat. Hunched. A boy. Under the night sky. When the comet flew over. And not far behind. His bigger brother. My teeth chatter. In 2036. My hair lit up. And my eyes melted. Into my hands. And my bladder fried. As the universe did. What it would.

4 Responses to “my bladder fried”

  1. Beautiful… what a great concept.

    Thanks for sharing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: