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 
Adds character — for sure!! ❤
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😁💕
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We’re on the same page, VJ.
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😊💕
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❤️
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I like the way you think!
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😊🙏💕
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Oh goodness. Do you have room for me? I’ll join you…I think you just described my good intentions gone awry (not every day…but you know…more often than I’d like). Hugs to you, VJ. 🥰
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Always room for you…and I suspect we’d find that we are harsher on ourselves than need be
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No doubt, no doubt. 💕
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Very truthfully and accurately said.
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Thanks Lou
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