Quiet late afternoon first day of summer, blond half-life of the mind decaying in the soft minutes, smooth electrolysis of easy thoughts. My twin brother died at birth and sometimes I swear he’s with me, breathing perhaps inside me. We are alive like no one who’s lived before. “If you are afraid you’re not living,” he tells me. Solstice, bees at our trellis, and the house so quiet now.
Posted with Blogsy
Planet of the Blind 