Monday, July 12, 2010

Southern Blow

I stumble to my feet. I can feel the unnatural sway of the room around me, the grit in my mouth and the blood on my tongue. I'm a survivor-no more, no less and for that I'm proud. But this blow, this pummel, this smack-has kept me down far longer than I would have thought and given fuel to the smokey whispers of defeat which swirl around me. The roaring in my ears is constant and as I shake my dizzied head, I can only guess as to which way to turn.

4 comments:

  1. i'll take this as not a first hand literal account. if it was...or wasn't... i hope you were in a bar and you then returned the smack with endless kicks with your cowboy boots till it was broken and you won.

    you should write more :o)

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  2. It's a badly contrived metaphor for leaving LA...but I like the boot ass kickin' image! And thank you...I SHOULD write more...maybe I need to LA air to inspire me...=)

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  3. you truly need to get back to your dreaming-and-doing mode... more and more and more and...

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  4. Yes...you can write ANYWHERE..because it comes from inside of YOU .....brilliant witty~ concise~ and moving !!!!! To write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write..............

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