They put handcuffs on his wrists. Hooked right to the table at which he sat. The dopes. Stuck to the fantasy of control. Something that had been gone long before we found him. They clung to nothing. He just played along. The man in the chair. Whoever he was.
Author: bruceduluoze
Sunday Morning Thoughts: 12.3.17
Oh, sweet and bitter and bittersweet opportunity. A crisis of hopes and realities drawn together in a briefly witnessed moment and provoked by a choice. What to do, what to do? And maybe quicker than it arrived, off it goes. To the endless depths of wonder, regret and the hypotheticals of former possibilities. Will another…
The Veracious Facade 