By Toby Ferris
Forehead to knee. Shredded. Perched crosslegged on the kitchen table. Hands on keys. Can’t get it out. The rage. The anger. The hurt. It’s hurt, really. Hurt, loss, another wall. BANG. Always another slam into the wall. All the tools I have are worthless. I need kryptonite. For me. For me. For me. For my heart. Break it down and in and come out again with something shiny and new and strong.
Filling the well with sand, one tiny shovel at a time.
word count: 81