She feels stagnant as the swamp
on a grey afternoon, the water
covered with puke green algae
broken only by bloodshot alligator
eyes protruding from it’s murky depths.
She’s the rotting waterlogged cypress
log whose only movement originates
from the prodding of another less
inanimate object. Minutes, hours, days
pass and only the moon revolves.
Charlotte Hamrick 
often there is much going on that we can not see…making the way for the next….smiles.
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This was creepy good, until the alligator eyes showed up, then it went to creepy great. Loved it.
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Thanks, guys. This is totally how I’m feeling lately in the writing department!
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