It's supposed to be with feeling. But all I feel is...It's supposed to be therapeutic. But all I see is...It's supposed to be tranquil. But all I taste is...I'm supposed to be me. But all I accomplish is...There's supposed to be peace. But all I hear is...The songs down the line.
Tag: writing
Blood Clots Stopping the Bleeding
Have you ever felt a thought was somehow...fuzzy? Like, if you could pet the thought, and it grew fur. A pelt as thick as a bear, touched by the sheen of a wolf, rugged and pristine at the same time. That's how I came out of it. Every tiny thought, the usual of where, how, …
Basket Case
A thought rattled her bones, just a couple minutes after midnight. At the same second, when she'd rushed over her bed and tucked herself into the corner, the door slammed shut. A few items tipped off the dresser, one smashing to pieces on the floor. The bed's posts dragged against the wood, offset from the …
11:59
sleight rip in the stings of a violintings of strings, a cage of wooda pack of cards flipped to piecescatching cats against the breathsanother window minutes beforethe cage rots away, giving moreshine to the seeds stuck in a holerolling as thunder, a touch of shockone second from midnight freightsdeceiving the curls among the cloudsit takes …
Birthstone
Every time Derrick saw his mother's grave, he got that uncomfortable twist. It yanked at the back of his throat. Every flower replaced was a pint of blood. When the picture fell, it shattered more than just a frame. The key chain rusted to pieces and stained the top of the stone that held her …
Insight
There are quite a few questions, a platter of quirks and plagues, that worm through my brain. But, I feel I am learning. I feel a gain in knowledge. An increase in folds. Because I'm thinking. Over and over and over and over. Pushing and trying, over and over. When my eyes close, I only …
Restitution
When the last one remained, he found a piece deep in his heart. He handled the cost, built the walls around his consciousness to savor the fight. And asked one question...What was he fighting for?
One Word
A transformation is happening. The spaces between are fragile. Fatigue and muck cuts a diabolical combo. There's always a balance. Always a change. Not a crack. A clean split. Smooth.A line is drawn either way. And, what is left at the absolute bottom?A core remains at every ending. For me, that's---
Brushing Up
As I shuffled through the file, a couple pages fell free and flew down to the hard floor. The box tipped too far forward, spilled some of its contents against more white while the rectangle lid toppled away. I skimmed the two pages left in my hands. Vague scratches that were useless. I wasn't looking …
Perspective
There's a lot. There's always plenty.Who am I? What am I? Anxiety, depression, PTSD, bipolar---so many things. But, through all that, I am still a....Writer.
Just Buckle Down 