Does illness have a voice,and if so; is it melancholy,or dark and dank, divulgingdeepest despair, or revealinga vileness of nature? Discord creeps along my veins,disrupts muscles, systems failingunder the oppression –“Stay strong,” friends counsel,cannot hear the gathering storm,feel the heaviness cloaking me. I am not myself, but then;who am I? Is disease a mutationof the […]
Discharge the gun –protection a vesselthrough which our depthsare undefined…adrift Fear is a burrowerwears a false crownbirths losstrusts danger Hearts beg,amid this trigger-readinessfor a guardian – unafraidto court this meaningless Futility unchecked –to study productive optionsunimaginable in the current state of chaos on repeat. (Art my own)
These bones, they saywill finish me – too brittleto withstand the race But I am Willowrecollection wispymy dance defiant Porous as a sea spongesoaking up each daymettle despite the rattle (Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest II 
Reblogged this on All The Shoes I Wear and commented:
Thank you so much for this fantastic entry in Manic Monday’s prompt!
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You are so welcome. Look forward to the next prompt.
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Wow! Superb!
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I wondered what I would do with those creepy photos, lol.
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That one is my personal photo taken from the inside of a van while touring Ireland on a stormy evening. You’re welcome to use it in a post
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So eerie.
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I thought so too. I’m glad I kept it instead of deleting as a bad photo. I felt mysterious, brooding….loved it through the rain soaked glass. Although my mind goes to mystery, intrigue, foreboding etc, it can also be seen as shelter in the storm.
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It can, but it was so much more fun focusing on the dark side.
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