The Day is Done

I think I might have several unhealthy addictions. This blog may be the newest component of the already plump list. Over Christmas break, I am hoping to make a post every day...just to keep myself writing. I am going to draw for at least an hour a day as well. I am hoping that typing this out will keep me accountable in some way. Eventually, if I can set up my scanner, I want to put some sketches and such on here. We'll see how that goes. Now that I have probably bored the very few people who actually look at this, I might write something halfway worth reading. Maybe.

Forty and three paces it may
be, down the driveway, to the
end, where I turn--contemplating
the metallic cold--and walk back.

My fingers are turning into
my mother's and I am pleased by
their aging, even if I cannot feel
them. The air is sharp.

On it are words. Escapees
of my own chapped
lips, they echo back more
foreign than they fell.
"Razor wire stings when
you touch it. That is true. Don't
drag your knuckles along it
as you walk and there
is nothing to worry
about."