Tea in the Jar

Thursday 6 p.m. Two bags, one is held by hand, the other is on the back. Both are heavy. Both are not so clean. The door is little heavy to open. It was didn't opened for the last few days. He puts the bags on the ground and try again. The door is opened. Take the bags from the ground and go in. A smell of dust. Mixed with some other things. The kitchen has its acidic aroma too. He doesn't mind it. Actually he likes it. He is so sleepy. He puts the bags anywhere. He tooks off shoes as fast as can be. Navigates to sleep. As I was goin' overThe Cork and Kerry Mountains I saw Captain FarrellAnd his money, he was countin'I first produced my pistolAnd then produced my rapierI said, "Stand and deliver or the devil he may take ya"I took all of his moneyAnd it was a pretty pennyI took all of his money,Yeah, and I brought it home to MollyShe swore that she loved me,No, never would she leave meBut the devil take that woman,Yeah, for you know she tricked me easy He wakes up. Actually he just opens his eyes. There is a difference between waking up, and opening the eyes. He sees things near him. Banana skin from the last week. Cigarettes butts. They emit no aroma. No more of smell they emit. Dry. He looks around and finds some DVDs he ought to see. He likes movies. And likes yawning too. Now he pulls himself with suffering form the sleeping matrices. His bones and joints make some cracking. He heads to the kitchen like a truck heading in a highway to a finally-found gas sta...
Source: psychiatry for all - Category: Psychiatrists and Psychologists Source Type: blogs