Beginnings of March

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The Maze


I haven’t written and I feel a void some how. I need to now put my thoughts to paper and stroke the page with mindless phrases that capture the phases I’m walking through.

My world is a maze filled with twists and turns which I expect but didn’t feel I’d neglect  its path which constantly changes.

How to adapt I know that I must but  as I see them grow further I’m afraid I’m the coward that they feared to devour their every day…

oh but change…. the winds they sweep and rake what ever is theirs to take, and with my heart for certain for its curtains shall blow open and close to satisfy and vail the the bleeding of my tale.

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Held down…..deppressed

Here I go it’s been a while and I’m just typing, just typing. What do I see now….. a yellow house, smiles, and tears, joys and fears all mixed into one. How have you been? Feeling any better are you still in that hole or have you crawled out? What took you so long and remember don’t stand to close to the edge you might fall back in. Hi, yes I’m better. I crawled from the hole digging through the mud filled with muck. When I was out I took a deep breath and looked around. Nothing had changed. No one noticed I was gone, life just kept going, but I’m back. I’m back on the drivers seat. I have return to join the race, to lead the pack. To make appointments, and meals. To wash and dry and be there as they fly away. Directing  them towards the right path and being here is the main reason I crawled out, to be present. I don’t  want to miss anything, everyday rushes by but here I am standing, breathing. still with mud under my fingernails.

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The rays

Looking outside smelling the fresh cut grass, seeing the rays as they kiss the branches and leaves. Beautiful how like a hand they seem to capture the radiance for however long it last. I want my life to be that way, I want the radiance to capture my soul and transform me into the best me possible and like everything I will then shrivel with out its warmth. But the moon and the night which cloaks the sky covered in tiny lights also affect my mind. I like to think serenity lives here, around me and through me I feel the coolness of the night. I feel like floating is my right and I do as the slumber takes me up up and away until the morning brings once again your rays.

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Journey back

My mind’s been lost, scattered, I’ve been afraid. imagining the worst. I’ve been  someone esle but slowly the clouds have parted. Slowly I’m getting a grip. Terrifying how the mind can dibilitate one as easy as a phycial injury. The journey back will be long and slow. I focus on the positive even though at times I still feel lost. Looking around wondering am I alone? How can anyone help when they cant see whats wrong. The beauty of life at times melts right in my hands but the challenge is keeping it intact. The mind a world on its own an illness no one knows how it affects the strong and makes them weak. How the most confident can skip a beat. The journey back will be long.

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So everyday is new. After a mentally debilitating storm yesterday, today the water is clearer.  Looking at the blue sky feeling the warm breezes is as close to peace as I’ll get.  Poetry is love for my soul, but needing more not sure what but more….

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I’ve seemed to have fallen. Sitting in a dark pit. I’m alone but not lonely. I’m terrified but I feel hope. 

Constant reminders trickle in “be strong”, “you’ll get over it”. And I just listen and wait for something,  some kind of magic to lift me out of here. 

Some days are far better than others but the bad days take me down with a strength very hard to describe.  

Wondering if writing will heal, hoping it will. 

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Down down down the rabbit whole I go…… I see the rope, my hands slips and I dip even further in this abyss.  Write write write that’s the rope I see, that’s the one I reach holding tight with all this might trying to pull myself up through words on paper see my mind waver scary sight indeed. Trees dripping ink, if I come to close… my dress! What a mess.. are those birds I see or squiggly lines, no their words painted on the sky. Positivity, love, joy, laughter, are all written in tiny words but wait they are birds…… fantastic, I like it here. I think Ill stay maybe for day or two I see why Alice loves it here, she may just have a neighbor near.

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To you my ears, your attention on me. Your decision…is it good or bad or just what? What!Its me. Its my heart, my mind, my fears, my laughs, my tears that your listening to. Waiting to judge….well good luck!I write for me…for my soul.  I love words, their meanings endlessly provocatively captivatingly real. They are real.  Tangible to me. Owned by me,  written by me,  and yes also for you.                           Perhaps they will make you feel my sorrow or my fear but most importantly they may make you feel anything that’s real to you. 

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I have felt drowning before, I felt the oxygen run out of me  the burning of my lungs crying to me….. but it was to late . 

Now having drowned I lay at the bottom of the sea in a quite I can’t explain except I want to swim up,  I want to surface and feel the sun on my face.                                                                             I want to taste the salt and embrace my fate with longing to earse the sorrow the pain the feeling disdained. 

No matter how loud I scream or cry no one is here to hear and how clear it seems to me. No one can help. Except me. 


A Tale to Tell


One of my favorite things to do is read. I say this but attached to it is so much more.

You brought happiness and tears, you’ve made me angry, and make a double take of fear. Without you my life would not be the same. I think about a milllion sceens Ive seen which remind me of someplace.

Sharing is also a gift to be able to bring to others the feelings I will miss. With every turn of you I meet another fate I’ll try to contain my emotions of anger, love, or hate. But words are complied in an order to abtain a story for me to devour and taste.

To pick a time of day and decide to shut out the world and to enter in another of my choice to explore.

What luck it is to be me and read till the howling of the owls and the moons shines and the sun rises and surprises to find me still engrossed in what I love the most a good tale to keep and stories to share with the ones I care to tell the tale.

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