No news today - Guest Post - David McLendon

You did what you did.

You drank short blindful drinks and held your body too close to the world.

You lost your sleeves and showed up with wounds.

You cropped what you could of the sun's unappeasable light.

You grappled with nothing.

You made no revisions.

You addressed the battered odors of others by inhaling them as your own.

You pleaded the Fifth.

You pleaded no contest.

You repeated the names of American outskirts for any number of irretrievable reasons.

You leaned against the chotch.

You watched the other daily irregulars choke without song on what they imbibed.

You imbibed.

You found the flimsiest of heights insurmountable.

You felt on the verge of something climactical whenever entering a public stall.

You found the difference between "eventual" and "occasional" nothing less than bewildering.

You were devastated by women with crooked teeth.

You were beaten as a child.

You were beaten as an adolescent.

You were beaten as an adult.

You bruised easily.

You accepted most beatings with an ambiguous sort of cheer.

You took little comfort from the tidal mechanics of the moon.

You did what you did.

You were less fearless than indifferent to fear.

You crumbed years into minutes.

You preferred chin music over bullfighting.

You grew tired most days and veered headlong into seasonal fevers.

Your body was aggrieved by hearsay.

All you coveted of the world was a small Victorian toy.

David McLendon is a Fellow of the Edward F. Albee Foundation. He is founder and editor of Unsaid.