Oh Combustible Inspiration

Starry nights

Promising things I’m entirely unsure of.

the haunting whisper of things yet to come

dreams forgotten

I can’t concentrate

 

My sickness leads to circular logic, circular whining.

I’m so weak, I’ll tell you

I hate this, I’ll tell you

and this is true

The hardest moments to be zen are the moments you are at your weakest.

the moments you want the most

the moments you are almost willing to reach out along the lines of humanity until at last, brushing the ghostly inclinations of anyone, we may fall still

quiet to the last

able at last to understand both aspects of your feelings on the nature of being totally alone

~ this really isn’t a blog…not really a poem either and somehow I like it best the way it is. raw and directionless. perhaps that says enough about the content of my emotions to count as blogging tonight.

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