DisorderedThere it is. That feeling of fading away, falling out of the real world and into the strange place where I can't breathe, I can't breathe, and the words won't stop pouring from my head in relentless torrents with the memories and the thoughts I know aren't true because they're dark, they're cold, they're surreal in all the worst ways and it cuts me to the core every word I remember, everything I see, it's all gone leaving nothing but this sensation that somehow something isn't right and I have to get away, I need to spread my wings and remember how to fly but I can't and oh, there it is, that black and grey and blue hidden somewhere in my heart that tells me strange things at night when I try to sleep you'll never be good enough, you can't make it, we both know how your head is the perfect specimen of cubism, of disjointed failures with just enough s
Spring CleaningAnd the mountainsides are changing with the seasonsRearranging and redecorating just in time to celebrate the spring.The trees are trading their bare barks for buds and squirrels, ants and larks;The Holly slows and sleeps, again the Oak is King.
SnapperImpenetrable.Rough exterior.Fortress, walls, anger,scars on thick skin.Reeling back from the pain,still trying to heal,still bleeding inside.Soft heart -tender.
This MomentI'm watching.Mountains shrouded, misted over, leaving green-patched swaths.Notice.Clover left by last year, tinged with red.Tread softly.Footfalls, rhythmic, muted by damp ground and tangible air.Grey.Sky, land, mind - all translucent, semipermeable, silent.This moment.