The spring of that year did not find my skeletal remains as I'd hoped; chained to a tree up off the rivers bank with empty bottle clutched tight in bony farewell. Nor had coyotes ripped flesh from my miserable frame or gnawed my weary bones while I watched with frozen eyes; waiting for my mind to be devoured by all that was evil and insane. Instead the deep, black ribbon of river focused my thoughts on all that had come and gone, all that would be. My madness; sole companion had set the stage. Like a wild animal caught in a leg hold, my freedom would never come without injury. I could have stayed, succumb slowly to the cold, leave the world behind, for I had wanted to; but something akin to loneliness made me shed my skin and slip free to face yet another day of pain. Sometimes, I go down to the river in the night to the spot where a chain wraps its' rusty grip around a tree. If I listen carefully above the song of the river, I can hear the footfalls of coyotes searching for dinner.
i like this, and kitten, i know what you mean. its hard to grasp a very clear meaning if i look at all the lines individually, but together they blend beautifully. the meaning wraps around me so that i feel it more than i understand it. nice.
