thought i'd have thrown in the decision to derail it. nights been tough, sleepless, interrupted, thoughts and threats giving me speeches and seizures all through the hours. i'm crowded with pillows, tiger plush blankets, an overused quilt and the corner of the room, tucked away, wrapped in warm tin foil, ready for the bake. ready, for strength, for resolve and the breath that trickle down my shoulders, except it's all in my head. prayers and incantations, all crazy such surrealism, of a smiling affection, a cavity of safety, my eyes blinded from all reality, incubating and waiting, for healing to rub it's balm all over this bruised batter.
starvation, hunger and this famine, all too familiar, all too obvious. but none of these hands, friends, know where to start, how to begin. they know why, but are they listening? Are YOU listening? am i praying the wrong prayers, asking for the wrong things? If my instinct be so raw, my body becoming so primal, why do you tarry this wait, this, is this my fate? Why will you let me down this path the way it is doing now?
Give me this day my daily patches. Till the next moment to keep me breathing on.
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