Are no better than
you caught me
dismantling my soul
And sat there
I find myself
wondering how words
to the door
It’s not that I’m
It’s just that
Blunt force trauma
for a reason
You ply and play The chords Like chrome Cool steel coy bleak But First Comes fire & in that, We all forget Ourselves Those moments Regretted in silence Until no longer Any pain Can be remit Upon The scour of her soul rants In his arms, He chides but knows as she knows they decided […]
A Greek city now in Turkey where preparing sheepskins as parchment was developed as a technique for making paper, which is now in essence wordpress, a virtual sheepskin, which evokes other things I realize and I don’t have a comment on that right now because I am trying to complete a disciplined assignment, to see if I can use Pergamum in a sentence but I am already done with that thought, that’s how fickle my brain has become lost in the virtual wilderness of thinking of what might have been.
And how are you supposed to do that? I wonder.
“pay attention to your emotional reactions without necessarily acting on your feeling”
Went to bed depressed, woke up lost in sea of anger, resentment and complete existential angst.
And one of us will die first.
These confessionals yield nothing substantial, and yet, sometimes, just knowing that you read them is all I need to breathe a bit more.
Does that make sense?
Is it a voice completely alone on the mountaintop that I hear and cannot get out of my head?
Am I alone?
I don’t ever really know.
It would be much easier, if so.