A Season in Hell V

Something is happening with time. It’s frozen solid or is a rock face and me without toeholds or footholds to cling to. What does one do without any sense of time? I am begging time to come back while I wait, wait, wait for me to come back. I see myself in a heap on the floor. The carpet my only landscape, a desolate moonscape. My mind is blanked out, just an Etch-A-Sketch.

Time to sob, that’s what time it is, it’s time to sob. I’m clutching my gut, sobbing very hard, a dry heave of sobs, the barfing out of pain. Wave after wave, an ocean of sobs and I’m sinking in that ocean, salt stinging my flesh like a thousand tiny bees. Eyes still closed tight with that crazy glue, I am alone, totally alone, the only one left on the planet. Where did everyone go? Did I scare them all away and if so, why couldn’t I scare Mother and Father away?

Filed under: Elizabeth Kirschner, Prose