Sufficient Unto the Day by tatterdema1ion, literature
Literature
Sufficient Unto the Day
A figure from the lost generation, but decades too late,
winds up the street in tendered, forceful apathy.
It is hard to tell, whether this hollowed ghost walking
on hallowed ground is laughing or crying--
either way, it's been drowned by the screeching of the bellows
and the muting veils of cinders and ash.
Yet watch how our figure's eyes narrow lovingly at the flakes
of backbreaking sable snow, of embers shoveled,
of a father's sweating back, thin and scarred,
rippling in grotesque time to the spitting of those chimneys-- blackest chimneys!
Only the industrialist knows of prayer, of feeding the swine on the hill
in barest hopes
So... my father grounded me from my computer. I have online courses and even that was not enough to persuade him I needed it back. Needless to say, I'm rather struggling for online time at the moment. So if I neglect reading all of your wonderful stories and other works for a while, you know why. It depresses me.
In other news, though, I'm hard at work on my writing, so expect some new deviations when I return from the land of sarcastic children suffering from lack of impulse control and bravery.
There will also be some edits to my project "Absolute" when I return. I tend to focus on politics, culture, and characters long before the world i