IfI wereto writeevery dayfor onehundred days,would my soulbe purged ofthis malaise;is it a thingto be dredged,dragged up –twistedand tiedlike tatteredbed sheetsknottedtogether;is therea remedyfor thisscourge;or is thisan inherentrestlessness,a fiery bluespark of eternalangst ignitingpassion – a callto write? (Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
Expectations artificialliving in an urban junglelonging for nature’s calm – time moves too swiftlybarely registerlet alone participate We are guests in our ownexpectation’s dysfunctionlicensed for depression a smorgasbord for abuseintentions mislaid,disappointment unavoidable The ego pretends to be openbut she’s an actress off cueplaying out a sentence – condemned to basicspraying to escapethis dystopian malfunction. (Image […]
One Woman's Quest II 
Amen.
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😊
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I feel exactly the same.
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Amen!
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😊
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Reimnds me of what Alice said “curioser and curioser.”
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Exactly!
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How it should be imo
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Agreed, Paula!
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That was exactly what I was going to say!
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So do I! I love the image.
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Thanks!
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You’re welcome, VJ!
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It’s true for many people who have the urge to know.
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😊
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🙏🏼
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