to the barren

Sunday Comes Along Again

Keening and careening she went.
You’ve made the supreme sacrifice, she
reasoned. Not for financial gain,
but because the pursuit of knowledge
is itself noble. Or was it that she was listening
to Dead Can Dance too loudly
in her earbuds? It was probably a combination
of both, she presumed, and went on
in her masturbatory mood—idylling
from brook to the barren
gnarled apple trees, in this scruff
of a hollow.

“… you can be hurt by people who look just like you. Not only can it happen, it probably will, because the world is full of hurt people who hurt people.”
— Carmen Maria Machado / In The Dream House

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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