Inky waves roll me like laundry,
Like rocks in a tumbler -
Grinding me against ashen sands.
Eroding under a bruised sky,
My eyes don't see the sun -
I grieve alone beneath my clouds.
1 week ago
A fusion of Confusion.
A veritable thought salad with no real common thread.
Things herein might be true, or might be a fabrication.
Hard to say. It's all part of my intoxicating mystique.
Sometimes silly, sometimes serious, usually pointless.
Sometimes I might say a few bad words and get a little
out of hand. Sorry 'bout that. But this *IS* my blog.
You wanna take it outside? HUH?
I'm not sure what all that means...I mean, it's only 8:44 a.m. here.
I love this imagery.
Sounds pretty bleak. I hope this isn't how you are feeling.
SAD getting to you sis? You need a vacation!
That's actually really powerful. Hope all is well. I'll do my best to send happy thoughts your way.
Talk to me, clew...
You know my address...spill!!!
And I'm with naive...I think we could all use a vacation.
Hmmmm. Creative moment, or current emotion? A little of both?
Have a BLT and feel better - besides the Steelers are going to the Superbowl!!! ;)
I'm worrying about you again! Get in touch! Hugs XOXOXO
Very Emily Dickinson-esque. Hvae you read her stuff? I hope so. If not, you must. Beautifully obscure.
My favorite part is how you don't say "the clouds" BUT rather "MY clouds". I love how the narrator takes ownership, yet doesn't not claim any part of the sun.
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