Justin Arthur Clark
Walls have been built. Barricades have been erected. Brick by brick by brick. It is the eradication of open communication. It is a ceasefire of hostilities perpetuated by personal bereavement. It is seldom convenient but, at times, can be crucial for the continuation of internal motivations intrinsic to self preservation. Words have a habit of turning cruel and sharp, honest mistakes often become feasible basis for bloodletting and fortifications offer a much needed respite from justified revenge.
It’s a long walk from the office to the bedroom, one continuous re-run. Do you think I’m ever going to tread lightly? I’m always walking left, but never right. Step by step by step. A choice made in a split-second is one I will always regret. Some things never change but only a fool knows when it’s time to keep standing in the rain. It blankets me like a sheet. Each drop crashing to the ground is symbolic destruction of objects once loved and cherished, cut in half like straws pulled at random. There’s no such thing as the next street over one ant says to another just before it’s trampled underfoot. The official cause of death? He fell smashing altars.
Justin A. Clark is a father to one toddler living in Indiana. He attended Vincennes University where he obtained an Associate of Science in History and an Associate of Arts in Philosophy.