Having run
the horse
until sweaty
I slide
off swatting
letting it
go in
whichever direction
it wants
for it
has taken
me as
far as
it can
and it’s
from here
I must
go alone
Author: Harlan Didrickson
I first started writing this blog as a way to refocus my thinking after a debilitating mental breakdown in 2008. Having been educated in writing, I had hoped that my love for words would have left a trail for me to follow and, well, here we are.
Lil
And then
this
with its
less
I wonder
what
if at
all
it means
Growing
Now that nothing
has become something
so much so
that I defend
it sword in
hand shield at
side against the
incessant drums of
far off life
just like I
remember doing when
I was younger
out back in
the alley before
the adulthood armies
overtook me and
I became a
prisoner of a
war that I
had no idea
I was fighting
Things
Like some broken
record cup or
pipe you can
always count on
me to skip
leak or bust
just like my
heart once did
and when song
sight or smell
quietly comes along
those mists from
across the shore
make their way
near to me
here making me
miss you more
Stuff
Sometimes I stuff
it down smothering
and desperate that
the embers cool
turning to ash
but I’ve found
that the warmth
of my body
keeps them alive
and the briefest
of long sighs
breathes just enough
hope into them
that back to
life they blow
engulfing me in
the flames of
their lost love
