Antonio was glad that the weather was good, smiling as the sun shined down on him on the worn bench. It was a weekday, so it was unsurprising that there weren't any young children playing on the swings or slides at the park. In fact, the only noise heard(more) was the chirping of birds in the early afternoon, talking in songs to one another. Yes, today felt like a good day.
He had just started to drift off to sleep, eyesight starting to blur, when he heard the shuffling of feet and the clicking of a cane. The smile on his face became larger when Antonio spotted the man coming his way. Granted, they were both much, much older than when they had first met, not to mention more wrinkly his partner would say, but he was still the most beautiful man he'd ever met. Even with the age and limp and fading hairline and all the problems that came to life when you reached retirement.
The other man walked slowly, in no hurry to reach Antonio's side. It had always been like that, gently meeting in the middle, not that Antonio minded one bit, because he knew that the other went slow so he could get a good look at him and to take some time to attempt to remove the blush from his cheeks; the same as always, after all these years. And just the same since they first met, he stood up to greet the man, pulling him close and softly placing his lips on the other's cheek, affectionately staring at his breathtaking love.(less)
Limping along doing exercise
Limping along socially
Limping along on your job
Limping along with your marriage
Limping along with relations with your children
Limping along with your drinking habits
(more) Limping along with your health
Limping along in your political choices
Limping along on changing your limping along
Limping cause you broke your foot, That's OK(less)
It's the end.
The earth's churned into toxic-smelling mud and blood pools in congealing puddles. Spent shell casings and bullets litter the land, reflecting dully what little sun shines through thick clouds of dispersing smoke. Maybe in other places, people are happy and blissfully unaware of what it's like(more) to smell gunpowder, rot, and bloodshed in the clear air, but not here, not in this setting.
They limp along, some with small and not-so-small chunks of their bodies missing, dead-eyed and uncaring. They won. The enemy's gone, fleeing with their tails tucked between their legs, held off for another day. It doesn't feel like a victory. It feels like a loss.
The soldiers have a lot to think about as they traipse past twisted razor wire and trenches filled by corpses, and mostly it's about the things they've seen in the battle or family they've left behind. They look down at the dead and feel a little guiltier for bemoaning their situation.
And every time they think, they think about close calls. How close a bullet came to hitting them. How they just missed a blast. How utterly close they are from being here one moment and gone the next. They don't want to think that much anymore.
So they keep limping along, grey-clad ghosts in a landscape of the dead, limping to the next victory-loss, limping from all they've ever known into an uncertain, indifferent field.
Waking up slowly, I look around to see the white walls still there.
Waking up slowly, I look around to see the white walls still there. After a few minutes my blood is warm enough from the mid day sun cooking me for me to have the energy to(more) move and climb down from bed. The house was empty. The silence began to build. Naked I walked into rooms and out of rooms and things remain from days ago. They sit there but why are they there and not somewhere else. What role did I have in it all?
Where does it all belong?
I limp along through the day not knowing my purpose. The door out remained closed. My room a mess little things here and there sit as a reminder of what I've done and above my laptop hangs a college diploma for what's it worth.
Waking up slowly, in a fail attempt to change my life I made my bed before leaping into the day. I work today. Work was a dead end job that kept me from drowning in the ocean of bills and my dreams were like clouds still there but frantically growing darker. Darker till one day when they will rip apart and rain down upon me in tiny pieces. They too were limping along floating aimlessly with the wind.
Waking up slowly I began again.
Waking up slowly I looked around to see the white walls still there. I laid on the floor waiting for something to happen. I am not living life and I wish for no more dreams.
Waking up slowly I looked around to see the white walls still there. I go through the doors and mount my bike and ride off into the sunlight in search for something.