La Llorona

Drifting in and out of here or there

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


I am tangled in the trees now. The birds are annoying and noisy. the wind whips me throught the leaves like they aren't event her but the bark grates on my non skin forms and sometimes I can't even feel like I am breathing, not breathing. Something. The wind and I have become one but I cannot leave with it because these green and brown branches have me tangled in their wining, cracking existance, I think they are sucking me into themselves like making me part of the trees or perhaps even trying to pull me through the sap into the rings and linse and cells of the interior itself and yank me into the ground so I can spread throught the roots and disperse into the earth. But I am not ready to disperse, I must find my children, my poor dead children, Do not take me yet mother, I am not ready.