• Time to read less than 1 minute

Crumbled slowly from the edge of a cliff

Fragments of stone that will last and last

To some, these stones must seem the lucky ones

They will never lose a job, or lose out in love

Sometimes I stare at their smooth surfaces

And imagine them as appendage to my body

Because once I was something like a stone

A strong thing. A tough, resilient thing. But

Weren't we all once? Before the weariness

Washed over and we found ourselves drained

I kick a few stones and they tumble away

These fragments of stone that will last and last

 

 

Share this and help promote amazing Aussie writing.

Popular on Brain drip

A Man Of His Word

Profile picture for user benjmason86

His guts churn something shocking, so he reaches for the pills and washes down a couple with a good clump of spit. The knot loosens, relief flushes. The kitchen sink is clean. Did the dishes last night. Do the dishes and wake up to a clean caravan. New man, new decisions. Sign of things to come. 

The sun chases him over the mattress until one more roll will see him face plant the floor. Been a while since it’s had a mop. Plus, imagine yelling out to the other long termers and asking to help lift him up: all six-four inches and a hundred odd kilos. 

Round Peg, Square Hole

Profile picture for user email_registration_ujPzr8WCBo

I had always known that there was something ‘abnormal’ about myself, something that was a little off-kilter. I can’t quite grasp whether this manifested as positive or negative, but I know that I didn’t fit in; my early memories are that of being a square peg, an unfortunate position. Unfortunate because society offered me naught but a round hole.