AD

Woke up weak, something got me through the night. A thousand signals, hunted me down.I have bled out, soaked into my own sheets.This is all emf.
Today there was sun, a bud-bloom miracle; melody spinning out. But I didn't imbibe, I didn't meet it though the spring was giving and new.Instead I caught it from a distance, off centre; dispersed within my tribe. Weighted- I felt spring's offering but only just.
For mine is a house cat existence; senses dulled, claws blunt, I scratch at myself  trying to wake up; trying to make my way back to where I began; undo the disrepair, re-gather stolen fruit.
I am harrowed by Stray bullets.Crime. 
The spring is gentle in it's beauty, but these are battered and battering times.  MB

© MB