Select: Shuffle

My playlist sings of loss
Pull up favorites
Spin the wheel
Shuffle
Shuffled steps
Head down
Contemplation
Musical augery
Dance in hopes dashed reverie
Shuffle foretells misery
Like it reads my heart
Empty suffused darkness
Distilled in smoke stained notes
Each record clicks in place
Bones rolled
In modern sacrifice
Mired in the present
Like a maze with no exit
Just beginnings
Middles
And blood drenched wrong turns
Dead ends decorated by bones

Ends and beginnings and ends

What grows when thoughts of possible
When all seems bright
Expansion begins
Rooms long closed open
Thoughts long dust and dusty
Rejuvenate
Hope bursts as bloom
Fed fat on spring and blood

These rooms pass time empty
Doors swing shut
Sighs like lamentation in the downstairs closet
Sleepy forms just waking
Turn over in their uneasy beds
And at the end

I dwindle
To bared steel
Sharp eyes
And a heart once whole
Thrice broken
And slowly
Slowly
On the mend

Seasonal Affective Disorder for weirdos

So, Seasonal Affective disorder is a thing. And I have a version of that. But I’m weird, so mine kicks in during spring, the days are longer, and most people love that. Me, I just want a bit more night. A bit more clouds. I want it cooler and such. And really my path falls into that too. One can hardly worship night and Winter and not be affected by its opposite. So, I’m a bit more prone to depression or overreacting. If I’m going to overthink into the ground, it’s a bit more likely during that time.

I really only notice it in counterpoint to after the summer solstice. When I can feel energy flowing in, instead of out.

I feel powerful and more myself, more focused in this half of the year.
It’s just how it is.

The price of memory

There is a thing in movies and TV shows and in books where despite everything that the protagonist does, every action taken. Despite it all, the person they love is killed or dies. And it destroys me each time. It rips my chest open and for a minute it’s like the door is opening again and I see her, laying there, dying all over again. Every time.

No matter how much time passes, there are things that will trigger me back.

I’m torn between wishing I don’t experience that again and never wanting to get to the point where I feel nothing.

Because if I feel nothing, I will have lost that last piece of her.

But I also don’t want the person I love now to get the impression that I somehow love them them less. I love madly, deeply, completely. And I love you.

Fresh squeezed heart, Now with more pulp

Its never enough. People either love you or they don’t and no matter how much you love them, how much you need to be the person to hold them, how much you want to protect them or keep them safe, it is never enough to change their minds. You could be amazing, intelligent, honorable and trustworthy. You could be learned and skilled in areas both carnal and not. And it still doesn’t matter. At the end of the night, they wave goodbye and walk into the arms of another. Or stand at such distance that, like an Escher painting, you never get closer.

Vacation time

This sad fool in motley granted fleeting asylum in the land of ease,
a creature of despair made mad by joy
Sits calmly in balance until revocation
Then despair works it’s way from bones and bleeds on the night air
Raw from soft living
Pain of the past hits like a wrecking ball
Demolishing the city rebuilt
from
Dreams remembering they are nightmares