truckdriven-blog

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          ‘ afraid ? ‘     /     a harsh murmur from chapped lips,   honey brown eyes trace the edges of a black terrain.   this mantra is familiar ;   more to convince woman than any outside force,   but vocals continue aloud.   ‘ a dark closet makes me afraid.   the wind.   don’t feel proud because you joined their ranks.   i’m used to fear. ‘

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     ALICE   /   woman might murmur,   lips flush against the hand - held,   i’m scared.   i am always scared ;   my fear does not define me,   alice,   but i am scared.   i’ve stumbled into something,   as i so often do,   &   i’ve discovered something new.   alice,   it’s more than   THISTLE.   it’s more than anything i could have thought. 

               sweat matted hair sticks to a forehead.   gentle woman is not running from anything in particular,   except maybe a harsh reality always steps behind,   and she clings to the overwhelming normalcy of her current situation.   trucker is a familiar of playing pretend   &   she becomes lost in the charade.   keisha pauses in her exercise ;   ‘ where’s the nearest grocery store ? ‘

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me: *feels at peace for a moment* my brain: wait a second

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Watcher:  Little anxious you. How’s that anxiety, you feeling afraid?

Keisha: [scoffs] A dark closet makes me afraid. The wind. Don’t feel proud because you joined their ranks. I’m used to fear.

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LIKE FOR A STARTER !

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why did the chicken cross the road?    because on one side was everything she had ever known,    and on the other side was a future,    maybe. and even though she was afraid to leave everything she had ever known,    she also wanted a future,    maybe.    and so,    hesitating,    and then not,    and then moving quickly,    running,    sprinting even,    desperate,    she crossed and found a future.    maybe.    and left behind everything she had ever known.    and that is why the chicken crossed the road.

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     WOMAN   /   forged from iron,   carrier stands with heavy shoulders,   profound exhaustion hands on the corners of chapped lips.   but this experience is not one for the books ;   leather   &   denim clad form is more crouching than standing outside of an old building,   staring at something like spattered blood on the sidewalk,   honey gaze nearing disinterest.   is this   THISTLE ?   is this the new war in which she is the only member of her battalion ?   a soldier maybe,   but old and uncaring,   she does not give any attention to approaching footsteps. 

                                          @runegiven​ liked !

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                       WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD ?

                       …..                 IND & PRIV     keisha,     ALICE ISN’T DEAD     ( by beanie. )

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     dissociation is a familiar spiral ;   it rattles in her brain,   like ringing to tinnitus stricken eardrums,   and encourages her migraine.   black clouds billow overhead,   something ominous,   the weight of it is heavy on her heart.   somewhere behind,   an officer   ( a monster in the shape of an officer,   though one might argue that those are synonymous )   trails behind.   this densely populated location will not stop the pursuit.   despite that knowledge,   shared by the trucker   &   the universe   ( and the thistle woman,   of course, )   she’ll do her best.   she finds the nearest person for a dangerous charade,   ‘ pretend to talk to me. ‘            

                                                                                   @enigmants liked !

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LIKE FOR A STARTER !

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     alice,   she might say,   voice euphonious but crackling in the radio.   alice,   this seems new.   it   feels   new.   /   the world seems too large once she leaves the cabin of her rig,   her legs wobble after a rather unsafe drive time of twelve hours,   and nothing feels real.   she’d tried to drive right through,   but her bladder is having a disagreement with a giant slurpee from a   7 / 11,   and it’s impatience has prompted her to run into the next gas station.   small fists pound on the grimy door of a bathroom   —   uncaring as to which sign delegates which gender toilet.   ‘ can you   —   can you hurry ? ! ‘

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                       WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD ?

                       .....                 IND & PRIV     keisha,     ALICE ISN’T DEAD     ( by beanie. )

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NIGHT DRIVES  night drives, night drives, night drives      hand on my thigh, been a while since last time

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I’m going to describe the shape of the monster that is devouring me.

favourite → podcast: alice isn’t dead

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