but just saying it could even make it happen

as i crutch through the disater that pretend to be our living room, morgen asks me if i've written anything about my experiences.

this has created an indefinable something inside my head. it snicks, catching like a rough edge on silk or a piece of glass on an otherwise bare floor. it looms over me the way downtown sneaks up on me when i wander aimlessly, always ending up going north. it stops me like jumping into georgian bay in april.

because, really, how do you describe a monster made only of metal, painted green? to a child, it's a dragon, flying fast from a stolen mountain. and how do you describe the sensation of flying through the air, entirely at the whims of physics, unable to take control over a body which should rightfully be yours to control? and that noise- how do you describe the noise your body makes when it bends in ways its not supposed to, when parts crush and come in contact suddenly with ashphalt?

i'm still searching for words.

but i have become convinced that volvos are built like fucking tanks and that if i ever need to plough through a field of zombies, i'm picking a volvo to do it. because a few legs and arms can't even dint such a beast of a machine.