Unnamed #7

Talking to you is like cream crackers for dinner. It’s quaint, but never entirely satisfying. Still, often I find myself rising from my bed in the dead of night and snaking into the pantry. I’ll stick my hand into a cardboard box, sit with my back to the wall, and devour cracker after cracker. They sit painfully in my digestive tubes, impairing my sleep patterns and leaving me with colorful, meaningless dreams. You have filled my esophagus with feelings that have too much texture and too little substance.

Comments (2)

  1. erin wrote::

    this is such a perfect way of saying that feeling.

    Em edit: Thanks a bunch! It’s so hard to accurately put that darn feelings into words – I’m sure you know what I mean. This is the best of compliments.

    Sunday, April 10, 2011 at 7:07 pm #
  2. Kait wrote::

    This is still Kait from Fictionaut, I just have a new blog/site. I’m so glad to see some new posts on yours! 🙂

    Em edit: Hiya Kait! I’m very happy to see you ’round these parts! How are you? Drop me a line (by which I mean an e-mail) sometime if you feel so inclined. 🙂

    Friday, April 22, 2011 at 6:05 pm #