Zigman Zibanski awoke with twigs grown out of his ears. He pulled at them in fear. He pulled harder and harder but the pain was too great and he let go in exhaustion. He awoke once more. For this wasn't reality at all; it had been another dream gone crazy.
That night he went to the One Lucky to drink. He kept secret from his friends, these strange dreams. But beneath his laughter he was afraid he could never let them go.
cul de sac
1 month ago
3 comments:
This is a tough style; but you are skilled at this prose/poetry genre.
Great post.
Zigman is delving into his complexities. Let's see more of him.
Is Zigman drinking wheat grass juice again?
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