I would rather be stuck in my La la land
Than be present whenever I am
I walk to think
As i know my thoughts will vanish in a blink
I do not want to find the line cutting between fantasy and reality
When I am stuck in my la la land
I would rather not be caught in my responsibilities having to plea to flee my miscommunications and misinterpretations
Causing me to question my abilities to control these hostilities cuz i know I'm a mess with my overrated situations and overstated observations
But I swear I hold you to no obligation as long as you don't mind my vague translation of which you are not inclined to remind me what I left behind in the outline
You see I have a design in my mind but my thoughts never seem to align
I’m stuck on this uphill climb
About the Creator
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munsona day ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.