April 28, 2016 8pm
BLACK, black as a night lacking a moon or any stars.
Black was something my mother never liked;
for, it was evil, the devil, hell.
But I felt a sense of peace,
until the pounding began on my chest.
A beating as if administered with a brick
that was crumbling with every blow.
Each clubbing more intense
until a flash of light broke the darkness
and I heard the screaming
WAYNE, WAYNE.
It would be interesting to read about your response to the one screaming your name, and your subsequent recovery.
Connie
Ron
Literally I've Been Dead 4 Times And (God) Be Damned
That Bastard Sends Me Back Into This Evil
World,i,e. Do Count Your Blessings...
I Can't Wait To Leave It Planet Earth All Behind...
TRASK...
compelling read, I'm glad you are on the road to recovery!
m