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It's a dark windy day. I've got a key and a kite.
Created on 2008-01-24 10:57:37 (#14750451), last updated 2009-03-12
88 comments received, 152 comments posted
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18 Journal Entries, 14 Tags, 1 Memory, <10 ScrapBook Files, 0 Virtual Gifts, 13 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | a_non_ah_mouse |
|---|
BioI grew up near a tall mountain named "Proper" and watched happy children climb up its long side. As I grew older I noticed many of them growing weary, drooping towards the ground, finally falling and rolling back down. They tumbled without crying down long distances to the bottom and no one helped them up. I wanted to, but was afraid of the mountain "Proper" and kept away.
At age ten bodies littered the base, strewn about in loose-limbed heaps. Still others climbed over these bodies, putting their feet into the dead faces and pulling on the rotting limbs to gain their balance. Some climbers were steady and confident- they made it past the clouds where I could not see. Other climbers reeled, wretched, and quickly added to the mountain.
At age fifteen the mountain's base had grown wider. Soon it would reach my yard, covering my porch in tired climbers and still corpses. I pushed the corpses away and begged the climbers to stay. But the bodies kept tumbling down and the climbers kept heading up.
Now I'm older and live on my roof, though I know I'll have no roof in a year. It will be swallowed like my garage and my dog. Where will I go?
I think maybe I should go up before the mountain gets longer. Think I should have started long ago, when "Proper" was still across the street. But I won't go today. Tomorrow, maybe.
At age ten bodies littered the base, strewn about in loose-limbed heaps. Still others climbed over these bodies, putting their feet into the dead faces and pulling on the rotting limbs to gain their balance. Some climbers were steady and confident- they made it past the clouds where I could not see. Other climbers reeled, wretched, and quickly added to the mountain.
At age fifteen the mountain's base had grown wider. Soon it would reach my yard, covering my porch in tired climbers and still corpses. I pushed the corpses away and begged the climbers to stay. But the bodies kept tumbling down and the climbers kept heading up.
Now I'm older and live on my roof, though I know I'll have no roof in a year. It will be swallowed like my garage and my dog. Where will I go?
I think maybe I should go up before the mountain gets longer. Think I should have started long ago, when "Proper" was still across the street. But I won't go today. Tomorrow, maybe.
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houraji kyouichi, tatsuma hiyuu
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