i was the mother of many small children and we were trying to organize and pack our belongings in a hurry and there were stuffed toys and dog eared books and little shoes with one lace missing and i kept trying to be heard above the din of many small nervous voices for there was a great nameless and faceless entity pressing down upon us from a great height and the cluttered rooms of our little house were darkening further and no priority could be found as to what to take as the certainty of our passage was diminishing greatly with each wave of frustration and i heard a barely audible click come from within the ear of the child clutching my braids and i pulled him close to my eyes and peered inside and saw a pulsing black worm that looked once at me then burrowed in, deeply slithered so far in, yes- all the way in. then it was done.  

wait till it all comes back to you conservative, pea-brained fucks clad in suits and ties who listen to talk radio hosts who claim that mothers who are growing angry and nervous that their boys are still there playing war should exalt in the fact that they are mothers of WARRIORS and this is great until it all shatters and real stress rains down from skies and meals at expensive magnets for snobbery and plastic additions to bodies get interrupted by air sirens and does anyone ever wonder why those on the planet who are exposed to real crisis are the ones who shine the farthest when held up next to the millions of panting, jostling- throbbing with self interest masses? it will both start and end in the dirt.  

i met a woman today who had an inordinate amount of compulsion regarding the passage of water. she had several hundred plastic containers ranging in all sizes and shapes, some battered and cracked but never the less critical in her mad race to contain every drop that casually dripped from the bathroom faucet to the mist of spray that shot from the sprinkler and did not reach the plant but rather the undeserving concrete and then back she would rush to check the progress of the filling of the cottage cheese container from the squirt that came steadily from the crack in the garden hose and if the containers were not enough or filled too rapidly, she would begin to wring the many cloths that had been carefully arranged around the forementioned containers as the careful back up plan to keep all these water molecules in their precise place and moment for precious process of staying sane at any cost of time or method, if only for the duration of the sad life at hand.