Thursday, September 15, 2011

Ima a disease

He's a startling sized boy, just a wee little lad, thick in the knees.  He's got a seriously powerful limp. He likes the way it makes him feel, the way the others in the community make him feel. For a person of such stature he sure does make his presents known.
"I'm working" she say's to herself waddling past him, "Roger?" her voice scared him. His relationship with or was it to her was becoming more and more obscure. He was expecting her to whisper something sweet in his ear. "ROGER!" this time her voice was magnified, he pitied her for being so naive. I told you where to look, he thought sitting inside the garden. Getting ready for lunch is he? Not without me she though sitting herself next to his cane.
You're not really welcome here today, I'm dining out for a reason. She doesn't know that though. It sounds much more pleasant then it is. I'm going to see the doctor. It's to prevent myself from having this reoccurring dream. She doesn't understand, "you don't think that you're going to be sitting here with me the whole time do you? She didn't move and it scared him, "I'm hungry and it's lunch time." This bothered him. I'm not going to be able to present her with the facts, she is just too young to understand. What do you mean? I'm burdened with a hollowness to proceed into chartered territories. Roger I'm hungry her eyes screamed, she was stuck staring at him, indulgent, young. "You want me to feed it to ya?" I need to ask, that she needed to tell me what it was I need to give her. I don't know. I've been accustoming myself to look for a richness in rank. It stinks and it's not young. It's for me to seduce, to introduce myself as a ghost, a revival with a limp....with something else they like.
"How long are you gonna wait here, in this orchard" she asked. I didn't want to tell her that this is it. That the orchard was our spaceship. And I sold most of it to a man who's wife I'm bagging. "I'm not waiting."
we both had apple s for lunch!

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