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 
Hooked on those giant clouds I’m 🙂
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Me too! Thanks.
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This post immediately brought to mind Simon and Garfunkel’s “My Little Town.”
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Yes!
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