Frayed Fences…


I can’t find my flashlight & the moonlight is not enough thru the rainclouds to help me one damned bit. I am sopping wet, I lost one of my boots & my dungarees are clinging to my legs while the mud is climbing up them. My foot is cold sunk down in the sloppy muck & my hands are freezing & stiff.

I can’t stop tho, I have to get this fence fixed & I can’t tell what is making my face more wet, the tears of aggravated frustration or the rain which is ice cold & sluicing down my back. The only thing keeping me warm is the violent shivering I am enduring & the overwhelming frantic feeling I won’t get this finished in time.

The blouse I am wearing is thin, almost nightgown thin. It is white w/a blue flower & people print over it. It hasn’t sleeves so it helps me none there & my hair is long, hanging in almost frozen ropes & it only serves to aid the water runnelets that skit their icy fingers along my skin.

I realise thru my chattering teeth that my breath is coming out in steamy clouds & I hear myself babbling crazily trying to talk myself into calmness, to not hurry, to slow the fuck down, to take care, FEEL for the wires & breathe, it didn’t matter how cold it was, this still had to be DONE so shut up & get it finished.

My lips are so cold I can barely move them & yet I feel the words bubbling from their stiff folds. My fingers are bleeding and raw & yet I still am running them along the barbed wires in attempts to find where they have frayed & twist them together in order to re-connect them to their other ends & get this fence row repaired before it is too late and they discover a way thru.

I have NO idea what it is I am trying to keep in- or out for that matter, I have no idea what this fence is, where it is or whose it is; I only know that I have to get it FIXED.

My arms are so cold, the mud has smooshed between my toes so much that I feel they are frozen solid. The other foot is fine as it is still shod in the lowcut cowboy boot. Where its mate is is beyond me. It is somewhere in this freezing wet muck and mire but I cannot stop to locate it. My back and stomach are aching with the wrenching racks of muscle spasms, I hate it when I get so very cold that it goes beyond shivering, it gets to the point of literally shaking as if in an epileptc fit & it hurts.

I have finished finding one wire & painfully twisting the frayed ends together I feel along the wooden rails for the other end to reattatch it. The frikkin rain has turned to sleet & it is slamming its prickly bits into my already frozen flesh & I throw my head back & feel a most primal scream of rage & downright irritation rip from my throat & I let it loose. I want to just kick these damned posts, rip the bloody wires out of them & go home to be warm, take a shower and thaw but I can’t.. this had to be completed & yet it is so hard. So very, VERY hard. I hold onto the fixed end & sink down into the mud & cry. I can’t help it, I can’t stop & the tears & the anger help warm my face & my resolve. I get up, sling my soggy hair back, set my jaw, wipe my face w/my mucky hands, close my eyes hard, and count to twenty.

What else is there to do? It has to be done and there is no one else to do it. I have to secure this perimiter again no matter how discomfitted I am for that is unimportant right now.

My foot is so very cold as is the rest of my shivering self but I have so much to do before the sun comes up. I dont want to be found here, I am not supposed to be here in this place anyway & nobody knows where I am were I discovered.

I feel the moonlight flowing over my skin, like liquid light and just as cold as the sleet that rips at my frozen flesh. It matters not I tell myself and I hunker down in that icy cold place, along that fence of cold wire and wood & again…

get busy finding blindly the lost ends of those broken wires, almost as metal lifelines connecting-what? But I need to twist them back together into whole and secure running strands once again.

I start insanely giggling to myself with the absurdity of it all; the almost total darkness, the pounding rain, the cold moonlight, the freezing temperature, the lost boot, my lack of proper attire, the insane notion I could actually complete this task & I feel almost like a modern day Clothos, spinning the threads of mortals lives thru my quaking fingers.

I vaguely wondered where Lachesis was so she could dictate which threadss I am to weave into the strands of this life and also where the last sister was, Atropos, and I almost fear seeing the flash of her inflexible and stern scissors appear to cut it again and then laugh at my mere mortal attempts to weave together what she had sliced assunder.

It was dark, colder than jet but the night wasn’t going to last forever. I needed to hurry before sunrise caught up with me and I was found out.

I silently asked the Sisters of Fate to lend me a hand to speed up my progress & again I hunker down to grope about for the lost ends of frayed wire that hold my life in place.

I have some weaving to do and all the tears & fears in the world weren’t going to stop me from finishing this task.

~~

Sometimes I hate my narco dreams.
Sometimes I really like them.
Sometimes I think they are but telling me things.
Sometimes I figure them out.
Sometimes I don’t.

I am not sure I WANT to know what this one means.
It scared me for it held too many similarities that are happening right now in my life.