The Cobwebs of a sleepy night....
October 19th 2008 14:17
Only it isnt sleepy. Theres rumblings, noises....Almost crashes at times, that disturb the peace almost as much as that creepy chill breeze....It moves slowly, like that GraveYard mist out of the movies, only you cant see it, you can just feel it....Cool....Dark....Chill.. ..Damp. Its there. Always. When its late.
The air itself seems anxious.....Some call her Andais, the Queen of Air and Darkness. Its a good enough name, for what she is, what she represents.
The birds have even stopped calling, as if the night knows Im speaking of her, and her indrawn breath. Waiting. For what?
The man of the house has informed me theres a cone left. Thank stars in heaven for that. It was midnight when I started to 'create' a blog....Its taken me some time. And now Im in need of the relief, the relaxation. I want to go and sit beside the couch and rock my head back while I blow the smoke out, sigh my thoughts away.
I shouldnt be up so late you see. Im starting a new job tomorrow. You'd think Id get to bed. But whether I go or not, it doesnt mean I'll sleep. The original insomniac, couldnt sleep even when I was a chillun. But Ive spent most of today sweeping between hopeless tears and practical, even minded sanity. The two parts of my brain that say - "Its a waste of time, Don't Go" and "Its all good for experience...Give everything a shot"
Impossible to reconcile. The quivering anxiety is even worse of a pickle. I need money, yesterday, but what does she care, the dagger clawed mental illness, who likes to rip me from one end of my skin to the other....
Ah, the flying clawed beasts outside make their shrieks. Surely, surely, there is more, more like what I dreamed in nights as deep and sensual as these, surely there is more than leaping from moment to moment, avoiding death and trying, trying, trying to stop it from hurting for just a second, surely, if we were a smart species, we could stop the hurt...
To be human in is to suffer, surely, but can we not measure it out? Mete it into easily swallowed doses? Some say we choose it ourselves, that we can choose to be happy at any time, but with purpose cutting your heart and duty driving your decision it all just gets muddled and sharp and....Well. Messy, doesnt it?
Not the clear and perfect detail of dreams, oh no, suggest I dream then a dark one, to fly away on the back of and forget forget forget for now.......
The air itself seems anxious.....Some call her Andais, the Queen of Air and Darkness. Its a good enough name, for what she is, what she represents.
The birds have even stopped calling, as if the night knows Im speaking of her, and her indrawn breath. Waiting. For what?
The man of the house has informed me theres a cone left. Thank stars in heaven for that. It was midnight when I started to 'create' a blog....Its taken me some time. And now Im in need of the relief, the relaxation. I want to go and sit beside the couch and rock my head back while I blow the smoke out, sigh my thoughts away.
I shouldnt be up so late you see. Im starting a new job tomorrow. You'd think Id get to bed. But whether I go or not, it doesnt mean I'll sleep. The original insomniac, couldnt sleep even when I was a chillun. But Ive spent most of today sweeping between hopeless tears and practical, even minded sanity. The two parts of my brain that say - "Its a waste of time, Don't Go" and "Its all good for experience...Give everything a shot"
Impossible to reconcile. The quivering anxiety is even worse of a pickle. I need money, yesterday, but what does she care, the dagger clawed mental illness, who likes to rip me from one end of my skin to the other....
Ah, the flying clawed beasts outside make their shrieks. Surely, surely, there is more, more like what I dreamed in nights as deep and sensual as these, surely there is more than leaping from moment to moment, avoiding death and trying, trying, trying to stop it from hurting for just a second, surely, if we were a smart species, we could stop the hurt...
To be human in is to suffer, surely, but can we not measure it out? Mete it into easily swallowed doses? Some say we choose it ourselves, that we can choose to be happy at any time, but with purpose cutting your heart and duty driving your decision it all just gets muddled and sharp and....Well. Messy, doesnt it?
Not the clear and perfect detail of dreams, oh no, suggest I dream then a dark one, to fly away on the back of and forget forget forget for now.......
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