Monday, October 05, 2009

Unworthy

There is a nightmare on the prowl, my baby disappeared in a rambunctious carnival crowd; left me comforting my fingers on a bottle of ink, discovered in horror on a leaky sink. Awash with shame, I sank to the dirty loo floor, where’d my poor neglected child go? Hungry and spent she must be dead by now; I haven’t the courage to step out this door. Perhaps I’ll just die of desperate sorrow; they’ll discover my ink stained body on the pot tomorrow. But guilt is such an insidious thing; I’m awake in the afterlife, still feeling like shit.

7 comments:

Ben Ditty said...

Feeling okay H'y?

Prude said...

Hugs...it'll all be okay.

Ben Ditty said...

*group hug*

houseband00 said...

Classic! =) I hope you had a fab Diwali.

H said...

Benny and Prude, thankeeeyooooo! :-)

HBeeeeee. For a moment I thought you were back! :-( Oh well. Lovely to see you here though.

Prude said...

hey! If this is writer's block...go after your baby...force yourself to find it. It'll all come back...we're here waiting to help nourish you :-)

H said...

You're a sweet sweet girl, Prude. :-) thanks.