Always the same shit.

Selling it again. All over the neighborhood. Making it seem worth while. Same story. Same falsehood. Same stickiness prevailing in all the usual spots. What, why and how will this find a non winding road? Blown up again over the ruse that always has to be ok for the magic mountain but not the rest. Hazing a horrific possibility is the worst thing one could entertain. It seems to make an appearance quite often. Let's see, we'll see, they all see............... but me.

LG, MK, LG, AP, TR, JI, NP, WR, SR.

Even though the bones were getting sharper, the skin getting longer and the shards getting taller, she desperately wanted the home made family, the large fire that she stoked for the small circle that fueled her for what had seemed like lifetimes to know that she would never take them for granted & hadn't. They had held her up, wiped away the sheets of sad that were only kept at bay by THEM, hugged her when others were afraid to speak to her, gave her a purpose and a reason. A reason to...... She would die for them, and maybe was; either way she wanted them to know that they were the ones. The ones that would be forever. This time and every time. Thank you.

Those Stickers Hurt...

Up. Down. Turned. Examined. Under intense observation, scrutiny morphs into a judgement posing as concern or curiosity; depending on the depth of woods said "observer" is stalking. The haze that this imagined projected dream produces is as freeing as it is lugubrious. I don't know what it is that you think you lost that you will reclaim in me. I am more hidden than you. It's a series of shards. A waning sleep that wants nothing more than secret light nestled in gray days to last. Not with you, but the one that's there to stay. That was never you and certainly the expectation that you house for its potential now, is futile. The best part, is that I never have to feel that static, anxious discord again. Not in this life. Still water in the cactus you emotionally devastating fascist.