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By Marshall R. M. Hann Submitted by Blessed23 Date: 2016 Oct 23 Comment on this Work [[2016.10.23.04.14.21045]] |
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I know that I instinctively recoil at the touch of anything resembling sentience (Initially I invite it in, caressing it, inspecting every alleyway, every enticing horizon, every nook and cranny of its idiosyncratic body; perhaps I am looking for faults. At first I am intrigued by what I see to be beauty, but then SomeThing happens and I want it gone.), though I desire it near me, but then I sink back into my armchair; my fragile, ancient armchair, I feel its passive warmth and I want you gone: I want it gone. It's just that I can't help but sink back into this chair because it's the only thing that has ever held me, received me justly. |