Very much just another blog


with 6 comments

Some of us are Icarus, though Icarus, my friends, is fucked. We beat our mashed up wings and stretch our broken limbs under toothless grins as we crash back down to Earth.

When our breath is steady and our bones don’t seem to hurt we hoist ourselves up, brush each other down, put back a shoulder, realign a rib, clean a gaping wound and ready ourselves for the second round. We never learn and won’t be told though the lesson is clear to read: there are paths not far from where we stand where patient travellers walk. We watch them check their maps, see them shield their eyes from the sun to note the signposts and the stile and yellow marks on trees.

I’d rather be Icarus, bellows a man not far from me. He flaps his wings and leaves the ground as I yell after him: for all the fucking good it does us! And I kick off laughing and soar right past so we are racing: twisting and pawing and yanking ourselves through the thinning air. There is blood still flowing from our open wounds but, you know, you really can’t feel it here: it slides gracefully from us and lands like confetti or tiny flowers on those patiently walked paths.


Written by elikafm

July 23, 2010 at 4:48 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

6 Responses

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  1. that’s actually really rather good.


    July 23, 2010 at 5:24 pm

  2. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Elika, McMucca. McMucca said: She has a gift. RT @Elika: Random picture I had in my head and I wrote it down, didn't I. Icarus: http://ow.ly/2fIyw […]

  3. Ignore him Elika, he’s jet-lagged.

    Paul H. Colman

    July 23, 2010 at 9:20 pm

  4. Evening, Paul.


    July 23, 2010 at 11:15 pm

  5. Hello boys.


    July 24, 2010 at 9:12 am

  6. This is talent. Your writing soars and never crashes.


    July 30, 2010 at 7:43 pm

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