spinning, sifting, insisting, resisting

i started writing a "novel" in a blog i started. i just found it now. i haven't posted in it in a year (in two weeks or so.)

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sifting through the pages of a crusted newspaper. dated back to 1932, it was more than mostly decomposed.
still, certain bits of headlining news could be made out...

"man kil e" ... "accident" ... "police s y it may ha e" "nection t " "a series o killi gs" "t e east coast"

alone in an empty apartment. no people, no pets, no insects, no one. he's all alone. no one trying to reach out.
the newspaper rattles as the AC blows against it. fragments of the weathered pages crumble and float away.
such is the way his life turns. pieces always flittering away...

glass of water, a ubiquitous sigh. thoughts of the feelings of guilt and melancholy. a flashing light on the coffee maker.
overflowing pot. a state of mind that could care less.

although these poems stay in my head, things will always be left unsaid.

pieces always flittering away...