lids & long puddling thoughts

can't even lift a bare finger to type. no story, no place in mind. little goblins inside my shin grab and pull at bits of muscle, stretch it all out of sorts and let it twang back to shape again. throb-throb, killer cramped-up shin bone bone knee bone bone bone, drank a cup of milk for luck with this, the knit, the mess, the reaffirmation. Some guy came and took the rug away today, threw it over his shoulder like a body, carried it down the stairs. it will return with that dinner-plate burn but all the same, it's mine after all. closing my eyes i can see again the insignia, the half-covered hubcaps, the thud. my skirt as it fell around me, pulling it down to cover myself, first thought "ground, sky, ground; I am uncovered."