i sit here today beginning to write, then deleting and rewriting. i've done this several times now. i know i have things to say. there are lots of things swirling around in my head but the thoughts and feelings are not forming easily. it feels like trying to catch the fog. i can't pin anything down and form the words. maybe later...
11.29 edited to add: as the day progressed, i knew it was going to be a junk day. i have days like that. where my head is thick, and i have absolutely nothing to give, i feel sluggish and angry at the sky for being so beautiful, and i try smothering the dull unexplained achiness with sleep and food and bitterness to no avail.
this is an ugly side of myself.
still, every once in a while i invite her in.
her beauty and grace are intoxocating and
she promises comfort but it is always a trick.
she comes and casts her black spells around me
and offers me the sweet taste of anger
like a shiny, perfect, red, poison apple.
with time she bleeds into me like an infectious disease,
through my body and into my head,
drowning out reason and rational thinking.
she is wanting, and hurtful, and broken.
she mocks me and ladens me with guilt for choosing to take her hand,
all while digging in deeper and holding tighter.
she laughs at weekness as it fuels her fire.
she dances joyfully around the hot firey sparks of my pain,
and collects my tears in dirty cracked jars,
like tiny silver stars lost to the universe forever...
today i decided to kick her out, but she is banging relentlessly at the front door.