It really looked a lot like Jesus laying flat on its back with arms spread out in a cruciform. I didn't notice its missing hind legs or the bloodless absence of tail until my eyes slid over its shining belly and I had bent in supplication to collect it in my gloved hands.
It may as well have died for me, this small thing shining and wracked on the floor. You could throw yourself from heights in an attempt to save me, record it in books and I'll file it alphabetically at the end of each day, the a's and b's together on the highest shelf.
Eight hours a day have been stolen, five days a week I wait for the evening or weekend. This nine to five numbness remains despite the freedom to do as I please. I find nothing works in these ghost hours except the cat on her new found path of destruction dragging the outside in. I'm not yet lost but turn constantly to look for the ballast and find nothing. Cacoethes hangs in corners. I will cover it with cloth.
It may as well have died for me, this small thing shining and wracked on the floor. You could throw yourself from heights in an attempt to save me, record it in books and I'll file it alphabetically at the end of each day, the a's and b's together on the highest shelf.
Eight hours a day have been stolen, five days a week I wait for the evening or weekend. This nine to five numbness remains despite the freedom to do as I please. I find nothing works in these ghost hours except the cat on her new found path of destruction dragging the outside in. I'm not yet lost but turn constantly to look for the ballast and find nothing. Cacoethes hangs in corners. I will cover it with cloth.
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