Thursday, February 24, 2005
Trains of Insomnia
There's a train outside my window. Always a train. I can hear it from across the river. I can feel the wall shutter against my back as it goes by.
The river's moving and the trains moving and even the walls are moving.
And I am still.
There isn't a thing to eat in this house. I haven't picked up anything in a week. There's rice cakes. Half eaten rice cakes.
I put one on the floor as an offering to the mice. They used to bother me but now I think they're gods.
And I don't like rice cakes.
So the minutes tick by and I've written all this and still haven't figured out what the hell I'm going to write.
But I'm going to write something.
I'm not sleeping tonight.
Tomorrow will be hell. But tonight is a sanctuary.
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