Watered

Another great unfinished piece.  In my writing I use a internal sound track/rhythm when I write. This  little bit  is the code I used to indicate what pattern I am using, Four six two nine. Then the next line is a the idea I was aiming when I paused. A place holder so to speak, so when I came back I could just pick up and write on.

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Four six two nine

Sun burned and angry she retreated to the forest.  Finding no solace in the shade she sought out the deeper darker part.

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She was a beautiful tree. Small for her age, willowy...lean and with a crown of deep dark green leaves.

Held back and kept from growing.

A captive in a pot just outside the door.

Separated from the forest

And worse…

Watered

Everyday

…With poison

Her bark grew pale

Her years marked in irregular rings with in her trunk

jagged like scars,

blurred,

some years not there at all,

lost to the poison.

People have tried to take her

Plant her

She draws her roots up so tightly that the root ball causes her to tip over and she refuses to stay up right,

Until she is returned to the small

Confining pot

that holds her back, and allows her to

Be watered daily…

…With poison

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This is a story about a girl who is drinking daily. Some one I know. Someone waaaay too young to be an alcoholic.

Unfinished. Fuck this post menopausal writers dementia. It's maddening.