Salvage

Free will became a list of chores

hurling sentiments against the lath and plaster walls to see what sticks

Or falls and heaps 

ceramic tile skittering shards

already cut me abdomen deep

gritted teeth

hissing curses

wading through what could have been a home

dragging detritus, whirling wake

eddies of possibilities, maybe

For someone else, probably

everything is useful maybe

just not right now 

Put pressure on the wound

resist remineralizarion

brushing soft against my cheek 

Liberated simple nutrients

someday, soon

just not right now

Journal

This is regular times now. No need to get all deep and philosophical. I have the luxury of being able to spend a lot of time in quiet reflection. Although I also spend some of it in listen-to-music-and-dance-around reflection. 

Not sure what to do right now. 

Feeling a little exposed, maybe? I've put myself out as if I'm sure of my own abilities and I'm not, not exactly. Lot of moving parts. 

Maybe if my current brain meds supply weren't so unreliable. Not the end of the world though. I can function okay. 

So I'll do that for a bit. Function. Keep an eye out, ear to the ground, nose to the grindstone. Keep every part to every thing. 

I'm a reed, on a riverbank, waving in the breeze, in the day and the night. 

dream floating

Bedroom window shatters and purple flowers blossom from the pieces of broken glass

Wished we'd been together forever but I learned so much when I was missing you

Closing windows too early

Keeps the cold out

The drapes can be blankets

Erect a fort against the sunlight

Stuff the chinks in the armor

With crumpled pages

faded watercolor landscapes

and endless rough drafts