before midnight

confusion sets in at sunset
on car rides to and from

it is cold and it is winter and perhaps my clarity

has taken refuge in warmth i cannot track down.

i am left, shivering, shaking, internally rupturing,

wondering how you got in here.

you settle down between my sense and sensibility

and i imagine you, laughing, watching unattached

while i dizzy myself in an attempt to find freedom

from the stories my lapse in supervision let you create.

old habits are the worst friends


(writing is the best medicine. peace comes with release.)

This entry was published on December 6, 2013 at 9:42 am. It’s filed under anxiety, creative conversation, free write, head trips, honest conversation, life, mental health, mind, personal stories, personhood, photography, poetry, rambles and writing, weird, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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