Confusion.
Discombobulating.
Ups, God
the ups.
Sunshine
in chocolate pearls.
Royal
suede eyes.
Nudge, bite.
Reassure.
Safety. Progress. Possibility. Time… slips.
Slip.
Slipping.
But then, shaking..
Sudden, heart dropping, sinking
into dark, dank, dire unknown downs.
Doubt. heavy, regretting, dirty,
poisonous… warm? Like fireball
WHIsky.
burns. stings. rips its way through
solid walls.
Questions.
Futile.
Repetition.
Repetition.
Over.
Again.
Rubbing
our efforts
raw.
Worth it? No. Not now. Not when it feels like this.
Just 12 hours ago? Nothing felt more right.
Pain. Doubled over. Screaming, tearing, clawing it’s way
through the layers. The layers we so often reinforce. “Duct tape fixes all!”
they say. So we taped. We taped and taped and wrapped and ripped. Until we
could pretend the holes had decided to pick up and find a new stomach to
weaken. Thinking we could cover them completely. Thinking tape could grow,
could learn to be living, breathing. Could fix. Could heal.
Facades. Closed doors. Whispers. Promises. Assurances.
Words. words. ords. rds. ds. s. Vomit. Vomit and LIES. Sickening. Cold. Clammy. Tunnels. Numb.
numb.
Worth it?
Has it ever
been.
