Words: ambushed, nostalgic, mercurial
It was good until the rains came. But that’s just the body. Silly body.
There was no Spring. It was cold, and now it is hot. Heat rises. It is something one notes in an attic bedroom. Refusing air conditioning. Seems like a trick when the heat was a necessity a scant few days ago. Besides, it’s comforting to hear the sound of rain and thunder.
Been thinking of the monkeys in the attic. They’ve been quiet, or maybe there’s just been a changing of the guard. The ape that tells me I will not have love; the capuchin that tells me I am fat – they’ve been quiet. The attic just has boxes of dust covered memory. They don’t even hurt to open. It’s just sad. Sadder still to find myself camped on the floor wiping tears.