apples, oranges...
an interim. a holding place. space between words, without commas.
someone took the rug and shook it. stuffed it back beneath her feet. without saying anything, so that it went unnoticed. almost.
"i can't even sleep," she says. he mumbles back, something about the root of her disorder. it's incoherent. sounds like: "unhk."
in darkness, the pupil widens. to let in the absence of light.
which means she's sitting around with ghost eyes, staring at the ceiling, looking posessed.
someone took the rug and shook it. stuffed it back beneath her feet. without saying anything, so that it went unnoticed. almost.
"i can't even sleep," she says. he mumbles back, something about the root of her disorder. it's incoherent. sounds like: "unhk."
in darkness, the pupil widens. to let in the absence of light.
which means she's sitting around with ghost eyes, staring at the ceiling, looking posessed.
big shame: she was becoming an insomniac. tossing & turning, through the hours. something was haunting her. she couldn't say what, and she couldn't explain. it was something, though. something, always something.
posted by erin at 1:34 AM
1 Comments:
ERIN! i got the god damn chills.
it's creepier reading it to myself. it must not have seemed creepy when you read it to me because your face is too sweet.
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