Eulogy to a dream
My life has changed in a real way. And I want to scream: fuck, world, why? Was it me, was it her, does it matter, probably not.
At one point in time I had a dream. It was safe and warm, comfortable. The wheels were on the truck.
Now not so much!
My family and friends are probably worried. This is something I should not be able to survive, not the me that was two years ago.
That dream I had has not been real for some time now, its ok, I’m ok.
This is me in print
4 comments:
Maybe not today but
Sometimes It's Just Like This
That's the way it twists,
Twisting in, ripping up, then
you pull it out to
the light that reddens
through the shroud that was your shirt.
And there is not yet
any fucking pain.
Indeed, that's the way it twists,
handle slick with blood.
You wrote:
Twisting its way
Inside my outsides
Parting the skin
Skipping off bone
Elk horn worn
Slick from skin and sweat
Damascus folded
Steels my breath
With one F.I.N.E. thrust
I find this writing business to be daily exorcisms. Of course "NO"...yesterday, last month, last year, you were not equipped to endure. But now, NOW...you are not who you were. You put pen to page and REVEAL, RELEASE! Sometimes these rites are more you to page, than you to life. Sometimes that's just a bold faced lie. But we forgive ourselves such things. We are in the human classroom and we are TRYING our level best.
"Fuck world, why me" is a familiar dream. Slips into my reality quite often too.
All too often by the time I'm asking the world "Fuck, why me?", I discover the world keeps moving forward without a glance back. Still feels good to want to know when I get my comeuppance...(Hugs) Indigo
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