tabula rasa

stumbled ’round the house…stubbed toes on an end table…cat hissed…place was pitch black…couldn’t see in the night…sleepwalking in suburbia…just outlines of objects…lamps…swivel chairs…couch…a home entertainment center…fake flames glowed behind glass doors…green lights blinked in the dark…

and there was no sound…quiet…no sirens…nor cars…trains did not wail…purple hours passed of nothing…just silence…eerie suburban silence…a blank slate…

wandering to a filled refrigerator of various diet sodas…Girl Scout cookies…selected deli meats…Stoufer’s lasagna…no smells of garlic…or sage…a staleness filled the air…everything in order…too much order…

a white canvas…no paint…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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