The head of the herd was calling, from far far away...
I have chosen to stay in on my own this evening whilst everyone else goes to the cinema to watch Toy Story 3. This is most unusual. I hate being on my own. Like, chronically.
I do feel a little unusual today actually, my uterus is trying to punish me for some reason - probably because I forgot to use my contraceptive patch last month so it's actually had to do it's normal duties. Stupid uterus. Making me feel like some useless 12 year old again, all moody and stupid. I feel like I'm treading the line between being some hysterical nutter of a woman and a parody of feminism, using phrases like "they allowed their inner-dyke to leak out" (a sentence actually used in all seriousness, with a straight face, but one of my uni lecturers at a recent conference. Seriously.).
So I shall be chilling listening to one of my playlists (currently the 'Grrr!' playlist, but may stray into the 'chilled' or 'Yay!' playlist later if the mood takes me.) and do some writing. Yes, let's feel creative.
On that note, a poem. Written a few months ago, whilst very drunk.
Starting to have an effect now.
Just how much more
I do not know.
These petty dramas;
So small in perspective.
So little in the grand scheme.
But now I can't breathe
And my hands don't work.
These tears threaten,
Deep sobs which shake
This body from the inside,
But they just don't come.
I have no music to set
These words to.
I have no song to bring
This story home.
Only this quiet
Slow moving
Understanding of what
Reality is.
And where are you?
You, who said you were everything.
I wish you meant nothing to me.
I still dream of a time
When I think of you
And feel nothing.
You are in the face of every grey haired man.
You slip into their features,
Wear them as a mask until
The world shifts, and they are strangers again.
I would let you fall:
A stone into the river.
Fall to scrape on bedrock,
Break on harder ground
And watch the waters grind you
Into silt.
I do feel a little unusual today actually, my uterus is trying to punish me for some reason - probably because I forgot to use my contraceptive patch last month so it's actually had to do it's normal duties. Stupid uterus. Making me feel like some useless 12 year old again, all moody and stupid. I feel like I'm treading the line between being some hysterical nutter of a woman and a parody of feminism, using phrases like "they allowed their inner-dyke to leak out" (a sentence actually used in all seriousness, with a straight face, but one of my uni lecturers at a recent conference. Seriously.).
So I shall be chilling listening to one of my playlists (currently the 'Grrr!' playlist, but may stray into the 'chilled' or 'Yay!' playlist later if the mood takes me.) and do some writing. Yes, let's feel creative.
On that note, a poem. Written a few months ago, whilst very drunk.
Starting to have an effect now.
Just how much more
I do not know.
These petty dramas;
So small in perspective.
So little in the grand scheme.
But now I can't breathe
And my hands don't work.
These tears threaten,
Deep sobs which shake
This body from the inside,
But they just don't come.
I have no music to set
These words to.
I have no song to bring
This story home.
Only this quiet
Slow moving
Understanding of what
Reality is.
And where are you?
You, who said you were everything.
I wish you meant nothing to me.
I still dream of a time
When I think of you
And feel nothing.
You are in the face of every grey haired man.
You slip into their features,
Wear them as a mask until
The world shifts, and they are strangers again.
I would let you fall:
A stone into the river.
Fall to scrape on bedrock,
Break on harder ground
And watch the waters grind you
Into silt.