wingssite

Day 24: Who Ordered the Rubicon?

I am caught in a little blue house near the heart of this little locked-down flyover town tonight, gripped feverishly in the back-current alleyways of a solitary quarantined life barely lived.  The night hits hard on the tail-end vibrations of another sickly day.  A day where the counted bodies rose higher than the spring sunshine pushing back down in a fever-birth reawakening of a springing season spent socially-distanced in the green City of Wayne. My seclusions here had a healthy head-start, beginning back in the middle of March when the order came for the bars and restaurants to close their doors to the rhythmic footsteps of a parade of patrons pandering for a little bit of distraction or maybe just a little bit of fun.  When …

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patriot

Day 22: Sitzkrieg at Valley Forge

It started quietly, just another blip out of China which honestly wasn’t too frightening, or even particularly interesting, because there is always something coming out of China.  Talks of tariffs and high-level political posturing.  Rumors of abuses and human suffering which, frankly, we mostly only gave a passing sigh of saddened acknowledgement as we continued right on consuming our insatiable fill of cheaply affordable iThingies and a literal sea full of disposably unnecessary trinkets and toys. We caught the soft and filtered whispers of the protests sparking.  There were valiant, youth-driven, tear gas shrouded struggles out in the streets, back when wearing a mask held an entirely different meaning then it does today.  We read stories of the quiet, chilling scribbles of a desperate factory worker …

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foxy

Day 20: Morning Tea

I sat all through the isolated night of another numbered day and waited for the quarantined morning to rise out over the sickly and fearful City of Wayne.  I waited with smoke-filled eyes, blinking hot and red, not from an underlying undiagnosed infection, but from self-imposed sleepless anticipation and lingering artistic nervousness.  I waited with smokey breath, listing and rough, not in dire need of a mechanical ventilator’s push, but rather from the damp warning kiss of a new morning being born before me. This little locked-down flyover town remains somewhat the same, still somehow in ill-advised touch with its original rhythm and pulse, pumping and pushing on through the breaking light of a new day dawning.  It seemed, briefly, as it always was, a deception …

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bio-hazard

Binder Notes

When you strip it all away, there is only the experience of us left, somewhere past all the lies and all the hurt intentionally inflicted for the sake of a foolish argument supposedly won.  It sticks stubbornly there, beyond the unnecessary daily dramas that constantly unfolded, relentless in their intrusions.  It remains a lingering monument, but one far from our personal collections of petty verbal injuries sustained on the great many battlefields of our love. We spent so much time trying to get it all right that we never really took the time for ourselves.  Or to make an honest effort to understand the parameters of what even made us believe that we were right in the first place.  Instead, we allowed ourselves to constantly get …

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brokenheart

Not An April Fool

You were once the unsuspecting doorway to my better life, an unobstructed threshold across which barriers of social and economic consideration became somehow less meaningful, allowing me a whispered moment to be better than I was, alone.  And I wanted so desperately to live out my whole life in that one moment, buffered and insulated from an unsympathetic world not yet understanding, safe in the warmth of your sophic, earnest embrace, my soul soothed by the lightest delight of your delicate hand. I would have followed you to the ends of time, unquestioningly.  I would have sacrificed daily at the altar of your heart, scrupulously.  I would have carried the load of our two souls- yours tattooed indelibly upon mine, the very tapestry of our love, …

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