August 11 by The Running Son
♈ þressure ¢ooker ♈
Any suburban family,
air packed between dual-pane gas filled
PVC windows, will tend to expand when unwrapped,
and fill like lung sacks long tangled in family ties, bereft of blood, and gasping,
She said, ‘you were 18,
and I had my own dreams’. I said, please.
Then I took in air as if to scream. Instead, willed
all outlets shut, til capillaries became red roots and a bone chill redecorated
me for that day
Eyes, grey as the pain
of not getting anything good that Christmas.
Her moment went sour anyways: spoiled little girl,
jumping at the wrapped jewelry box; greyed woman raging to find two orange
and black Duracells
Atmospheres close lungs.
Humidity’s too much. Clouds drift room
to room. Pressure systems move, always moving,
and are maintained between panes. Gases escape with grey and greying
souls, up the flew.
Written for: Daily Prompt: P.C. http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/11/daily-prompt-useful/
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.