39 Horses My Mom Loved ONLINE
0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39
Rodger at Day's End
Rodger drips in place on the corner of his bed
His eyes tick in rhytm with the hands of the clock
His mouth shimmers- it is not there
His hands tense with his heartbeat
Rodger is glad they are moving
But the clock hands are statues
Rodger's teeth grind out industrial dust as he thinks of their stubborness:
Why won't you let this pale day end and rest its pathetically naked shivering?  It wants only
    to be tired so I might sleep in tomorrow.  Why must you make it carry on, it has nothing more
    to offer; as if it ever did.  Its wastefulness disgusts me, and you, you will not move.
The clock ignores him and is still
The air shifts in anticipation and then forgets
Rodger watches the clock
He notes the translucent face
unmoving
reflecting in the glass
shielding the
face of the clock
and then thinking
clock
Lying, face to the floor, beside Rodger's bed is a sheet of computer paper with the following 
words typed in Anarchy Mono font:

The drapes cover my eyes and my sweat is strangely absent. I feel displaced, but I am where I always was- a triumphant companion knowing that life was my conquest. Laughter now roars in a dwindling echo- now not even nervously giggling about the past and I'd cry if I didn't know this is where I am and it doesn't matter where I'm going or where I've been because I'm here now and I'm mine and whatever so what ever I am now is what I wanted and in terms of me and who I am and what I do I'll always get what I want so I should smile get out of bed and take my vitamins