I write, write, write, right?
It’s close to 48 hours from now…then marks year number 4…each year it gets easier, but it never stops hurting so much. I can’t seem to eat…my tummy hurts, my guts wrenched in twisted emotional agony…impending sadness looming large on the background of my life…creeping into my now like a shadow casting all hope to side…I expect this rag to go on for days, but all I can do is write, write, write, right?
I have that emptiness, the soundless hurt that echoes through every crevice my tarnished soul; I have rage too…angry and hot and bloody murderous wrath wielding violent anger!!!!!! And in between those powerful emotions, tweening the tiniest of space between them, under the pressure of another awful anniversary…my mind grinds a creative vibe because it’s the only thing keeping me alive; just write, write, write, right?
Sitting in my room, feeling the motion of an ocean while I’m chain smoking points of view…I still can believe it’s true, but she’s gone and been gone for years already…time marches such a steady drum beat yet I drag my feet in pain, they’re getting muddy and slip like endless drops of rain that fall in teardrops I can’t explain the way the fear pops into my brain when I hold my little girl…if only here, in my mind for the shortest of time while I write, write, write, right?
I have that emptiness, the soundless hurt that echoes through every crevice my tarnished soul; I have rage too…angry and hot and bloody murderous wrath wielding violent anger!!!!!! And in between those powerful emotions, tweening the tiniest of space between them, under the pressure of another awful anniversary…my mind grinds a creative vibe because it’s the only thing keeping me alive; just write, write, write, right?
Sitting in my room, feeling the motion of an ocean while I’m chain smoking points of view…I still can believe it’s true, but she’s gone and been gone for years already…time marches such a steady drum beat yet I drag my feet in pain, they’re getting muddy and slip like endless drops of rain that fall in teardrops I can’t explain the way the fear pops into my brain when I hold my little girl…if only here, in my mind for the shortest of time while I write, write, write, right?