things fall apart

A blue thing, blue on the outside, with blue lines, like tears, on the inside. Torn, ripped, stained. Imperfect to begin with, made more so by its behavior, its conduct. A blue thing has broken. Its edge, its hinge, separated. Like hips that turned away too often, like a neck always ready to jerk in the opposite direction, it has snapped. It was too blue, full of pages, too full of lines, over-used, abused, and obsessed.

It started slowly, a crinkle here, a smudge there. Like nails chipped and scratched. It tried to do too much. Got overworked. Got obnoxious, got ugly. And now its broken. Abandoned. Useless. Lost. That’s what happens when you do too much. Drink too much. Talk too much. Dream too much and think too little. You overstay your welcome. Expose your own flaws. Turn others away. Alone. Full of blue and broken.


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