eyes opened, only to see more darkness. before the sun rose, the stomach turned. there being many possibilities for the why but none seem to matter during the coldest hour.
there was once a reason to rise with the chickens. to follow a schedule. organized chaos.
what happened? without a formal plan, how does one know what to do?
straight to the bathroom for some cold water on the face, and some space for reflection. another day passes with no agenda.
the heart skips a beat breathing becomes heavy, erratic, and difficult. identifiable as stress.
all the talk about how things should be at this ripe age but no recognition, nor support in how things are.
illness, death, loss of self all things to remind a person that they are alive. some say, pain is good. a trigger for the brain to know something is wrong.
the sun kisses the horizon. breathing returns to normal. eyes fall heavy as they depart into the darkness, again.
is it day or is it night? is it sleep, or is it escape? does it make a difference? of course it does. it’s not over till it’s over. return to the land of the living and take a deep breath. am I talking to you or to me?
eyes opened, only to see more darkness. before the sun rose, the stomach turned. there being many possibilities for the why but none seem to matter during the coldest hour.
there was once a reason to rise with the chickens. to follow a schedule. organized chaos.
what happened? without a formal plan, how does one know what to do?
straight to the bathroom for some cold water on the face, and some space for reflection. another day passes with no agenda.
the heart skips a beat breathing becomes heavy, erratic, and difficult. identifiable as stress.
all the talk about how things should be at this ripe age but no recognition, nor support in how things are.
illness, death, loss of self all things to remind a person that they are alive. some say, pain is good. a trigger for the brain to know something is wrong.
the sun kisses the horizon. breathing returns to normal. eyes fall heavy as they depart into the darkness, again.
is it day or is it night? is it sleep, or is it escape? does it make a difference? of course it does. it’s not over till it’s over. return to the land of the living and take a deep breath. am I talking to you or to me?