Dust motes fall like calm, aged snow through the air, lit by the light slanting through leaning windows. Faded plush chairs relax in the glow, as though retired from a seaside promenade to this hushed attic.
In one chair, the faded yellow of old fiction striped with a color both blue and green yet neither, an old man drowses. There is a model airplane resting in his hands, its one wing cradled in his weathered hand. The other side of the fuselage is bare, save for a oval discoloration to mark where a second wing once resided.
A boy patters into the passageway, pushing his own toy airplane into flight above his head. The old man rouses, and
What if Adam just plain lied
And Eve
with apple juice
Running down her chin
Just let it slide
Is the whole story a hoax
A different mother
than Mary
No father
Son
Holy Ghost
Was Lilith really all that bad
She just wanted to be free
The desert is hard on Mustangs
And her man was not handy
Was Mary really a virgin
did Joseph just herd the sheep
Did Mary feel passion
desire
her body eternally saved
It's been such nasty weather here... boring and grey and rainy. Most of my friends at home are back at college or have to go to high school... I really can't wait to go back tomorrow. College feels more like "home" to me than my house does. Blah.
In more optimistic news... a friend of mine and I set up a stock account, ~blackittiestock (https://www.deviantart.com/blackittiestock) Check it!