I’ve tucked my palms into the pockets of my coat because I’m tired of thinking about them. They’re driving me crazy those lines, those lies, the lack of expectation. There’s no tight rope. There’s no hope. There’s no flame flickering from afar. There’s a sky and a sea. And you can hear the hushed judges hiss with serpent tongues. They burrow into your skin and into your brain until a candle flickers where it shouldn’t and a tightrope is strewn only into tomorrow. Never present, never today, and never to the soul. And if it has no soul it’s of no use to me. No use at all. So I waiver from light to light from certainty to uncertainty. . .
Daffni Gingerich says simply that she “is a writer.” You can read more of her mesmerizing prose at Daffniblog.
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