The Sound of Ink

The sun is blind and the moon sings arias to my curtains. I wish I knew where I crawled through the mirror, but exits can knife when reasons don’t matter. Pandemic visions worry my madness until the voices in my head reach the noise of my tongue. Isolation, the grit of must, gives me too many hours to pimp introvert to extroverts who hate spending time listening when they are hungry to speak. Does anything make sense when half the population is brave enough to nest while the other half insist on their right to roam. I’m here in the where I should be. I’m a sister to Alice and a cousin to White Rabbit…. Time is too much in the fear of too little.  ©Susie Clevenger 2020 #napowritmo2020 Day 3 Real Toads ~ April 2020 ~ Day 3

How much sky can I hold in an empty cup or moon on the tip of my tongue? I pray to light, wings, and the darkness within me to hold my legs firm when every step taps the spine of inquest… What about tomorrow? My shell of walls and windows grows heavier with every sunset. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Flash Fiction Friday 55 ~ March 2020 Poetry is my journal. I write out what I can't keep in. Some days are dark..Some days are light. I created the image through Gimp's photo program. Do I know what I'm doing? No...I've never used Gimp before, but Google is guiding me to instruction. I'm always trying to learn something new.