What It’s Like to Breathe in Sand

Hot Desert Sun: Yes, I’ve turned you into a well.

Man: Why?! Why would you do that?

Hot Desert Sun: Because you said you were thirsty.

Man: And this is how you bring me gifts? For all that is mighty, I can’t even drink myself! Did you take that into account, you silly sweaty sun??!

Hot Desert Sun: I suppose not.

Man: Well???

Hot Desert Sun: Well, nothing. You screamed and shouted and called me silly and sweaty. I’m not fond of name calling. Enjoy eternity amidst the boundless sands, you…you…

Man: ME WHAT??

Hot Desert Sun: You…nothing. I won’t reciprocate that kind of informal behavior. Goodbye, Well.

Man: Nnnnyyyyyyyaaaaaaahhhhh!

The yelling, cursing, whining, and screaming continues for quite some time before the man, cough, well begins to weep itself to sleep.

(Sketch drawn by me.)


Looking for a new read? Take the car out for a moonlit drive 🌙 , roll the windows down 🚗 , crank up the jukebox oldies 🎵 , and check out my debut poetry collection Strange Cars in the Night on Amazon today.

Also, be sure to find me on Instagram @ blankpagesofmine and say hello!

7 thoughts on “What It’s Like to Breathe in Sand

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