Loudmouth (redux)

What can I offer?
A warring world where life is bereft of meaning.
Father on an amphetamine-fueled jag.
Mother, a dark figure, a smoke-like wraith moving through the house.
I stare and move my crayon to the din of caffeinated voices, a garbled television, a tinkling piano.
The house is old and made out of coquina painted pale green.
I’m shoehorned in between them, and perched on the edge of my seat.
A whippoorwill spits an urgent call.
She will come in and check for irritation at 9:10.
Overnight the snow will turn to slush, then a sheath of ice.

What I’m Reading:

Times is hard.

Hard people makes hard times. I’ve seen the meanness of humans till I don’t know why God ain’t put out the sun and gone away.

— Cormac McCarthy / Outer Dark