I did not think it would be easy. I did think it would be darkest place I would spend lately in. I am not dreaming a briar bush is eating through my throat and a hard ball is dying in my pit tar stomach. It is a true feeling.
I have had a hard time sleeping; in fact I have had a hard time closing my eyes. A broken heart seems like an afternoon in the sunshine compared to fighting this monster.
Day three I drew a line on my forehead a big fat timeline of not being ready to a bottled now-day. But the monster is taunting and cruel and continues to be a Jabberwocky of jibes.
I feel like crying but I’m so scared my tears will ooze a black snail trail and you will follow it to the monster.
I lace my fingers into a place of seeing a new face. At least I try. The voices… oh…the voices of I believe in you…. drum into the poisoned flow and sail next to the devil I puffed. Strange imaginings: hard. But the pain in my breast, ironed out on this day seven.
Take away. Take away. Get away. (merci beaucoup Norah Jones – Life is a Carnival)
I am singing a new tune into my veins and even if I am still lost -
it does not matter because it does not feel the same
as the last time.