This bed is a ship

This bed is a ship is a sporadically updated internet journal, 
a home for odd scraps of writing.

my nerves are frayed, my mother keeps on sending telegrams, hopeful but reminders of things I can’t think about, and I just want a drink, when lightning hits the cemetery across the street, the wind roars, hail starts crashing into all the windows despite the heat–

I watch from my bedroom window with each flash of lightning, to make sure the dead are not rising from their graves, because tonight of all nights it feels likely.

Sid BrancaComment