Monday, September 11

Clean.

Running like a child through a field of poppies
Remembering the thrill in my legs and the wind curling
Off my face and body, left behind where no time existed
No time existed, it was bright and wild and strong
Then something went wrong
I began to notice trails
And wonder where they led
I began to hear voices calling
Wondered what they said
I began to feel the slime of
The nameless ones creep upon my body
Fill my pores with care and filthy wants
Now I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again.

3 comments:

oormila vijayakrishnan said...

Meta,Oh Meta, where have you been?
Not seen you a-while on the blogging scene,
Hope all is well and rocking too,
The world's all waiting to hear from you...

oormila vijayakrishnan said...

Just wanted to say, that as 'recommended reading' for the creative writing paper, I have told all my students about your blog.You feature as one of our "contemporary writers". :-) You now have a fan following. Your mind is simply fabulous in its perception and evaluation of stimuli. And to think that I stumbled upon your amazing blog by just a random click...Go Meta!

Metamatician said...

That is very kind of you, oormila, and I'm flattered. You're one of the only people who reads this (I think)...maybe I'll hook a few more now. Although I'm not sure I'd want MY students seeing/reading some of the content of this blog. But life is what it is I supposed, no need to perfume it so it always smells nice. And aren't the nicest smelling flowers always the most deadly to their insect prey?

So yes, I'm still here, just have been a little too depressed to write lately, though I hope to pick up again soon. Thank you so much for the kind words and deed, it means a trememendous amount to me.

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