Textling #75

The fall was steep, pain so fierce it almost purged me of relation. In its throes for days, nerves afire skull to toes. Then the process of emerging, trying to remember, searching for elation. Fatigue’s blunt fangs sunk deep into my hide, like calcified negation. Soon as I could I sorted shards of shared delight, sent cards, frogmarched words across the pillow till they lined up (kind of) right. Drive seems strongest when abjection worst.

Still, call me lucky! A friend is bed-bound, cannot bear the light I thrive on, and has not left her room in years. I round up exultations, crazy greedy for more.

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