: rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
2004-05-27 05:24:00

rejectomorph
flying_blind
2004-05-27 05:24:00

Days of the Flies

Five AM, and new light shows the dim sky smudged with clouds like dark bruises. The robin chirps insistently, drowning out the crickets. The house is still too warm. Lights show from the windows of early risers who will soon fill the streets with the sound of their cars. I will close my blinds and shut out the scorching sunlight, but the heat will penetrate the walls and the roof and obliterate all trace of night's gentle air nonetheless. It will wake me too soon, and I will cast off blankets and return to sleep, and perhaps be fortunate enough to dream that I am dozing on some beach, rather than trapped in a blazing pit of tar. Inexorably, the season of hell approaches.

Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty-Four

Sunday rain rattled on the roof every time I woke up during the long late night and early morning. I don't remember when I finally got up, but there…
Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty-Three

Barely keeping my eyes open after midnight, probably because I got no afternoon or evening nap Sunday. Also I'm feeling a bit sick to my stomach. I…
Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty-Two

Didn't feel like eating what I'd planned for dinner Friday. That was like three days in a row. Instead I dug out a microwave meal from the freezer.…

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Days of the Flies

Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty-Four

Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty-Three

Reset Forty-Eight, Day Thirty-Two

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