Article: 261631 of talk.bizarre
From: page@logrus.itribe.net (d.)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: "2nd Concerto for Broken Glass"
Date: 1 Dec 1995 21:51:51 GMT
Organization: iTribe, Inc.  <URL: http://www.itribe.net/>
Lines: 37
Message-ID: <49ntdn$gka@athos.itribe.net>
Summary: fiction, FTSD submission
Status: O
X-Status: 



There isn't anything you can do or say to me anymore.  There's
worthlessness in my smile and y actions, there a listlessness to my
emotions.  There's no hope in my eyes.  I'm not emotionally dead, but
you can't get to where I hide my feelings anymore.  I've got my
casualties piled up outside triple-thick walls, I've got defenses I've
never had to have before.  It's a war zone in here but I'm outwardly
calm.  You can't touch me, don't even try.

There isn't anything you can do or say to us anymore.  We live in our
worthless, broken down house on the outskirts of town, and we don't
bother anyone in our own quiet way.  Our doors are shut to neighbors
and concerned clergymen alike, and we don't like visitors.  All the
shutters of our house are closed against prying eyes and calling
voices and the front door's kept locked -- possibly the only door in
town that is.  It's a war zone out there in the world, but our family
is safe and will survive.  You can't touch us, contaminate us, hurt us
-- don't even try.

There isn't anything you can do or say to us anymore.  We live in our
worthless, empty town all our lives and then die without a single
shining moment.  Our minds are closed to the ways of the outsiders,
and no one is welcome to live here that we don't already know.  Our
hearts and minds are closed to anyone and everyone; we don't care
about the outside world one bit.  This town is a haven for dropouts
and the destitute, drunkards and down-and-outs.  There's no high
expectations here in our little war zone, so there's nothing to fail.
You can't touch us here in Broken Glass, so don't even try.




d.

--
The large and potentially dangerous polygonal mirror wheel:   page@itribe.net