Recovery, philosophy, mental health, things that interest me, and random poetry.
I wish I spoke bird. Chipmunk or coyote would be cool too, as would deer or bear. Birds hop in the nearby grass as the rain falls, seeking worms. Four-legged beasties climb my trees, venture bravely into my yard, grab pears the size of their bodies and drag them back to their nests. I hear …
I have not felt particularly poetic of late which is odd considering that I favour dark themes and sad stories which currently abound in the here and now...
Why does the heat feel different in September? How does it know that fall is fast approaching?...
i live with one foot firmly planted in the world of imagination and fantasy and i like being there, able to infinitely repeat and revise the moments in my life that upon reflection cause me dissatisfaction...
"behind the enforced busy work, so necessary to keep the disquiet of an unfulfilled life at bay; beyond the many and minute tasks, the mundane repetitions that if necessary can fill every waking hour and minute, there is, bubbling up from underneath; the knowledge that there could be more..."
"stand up straight. shoulders back and breathe in deeply. let the air fill your lungs; stretch your ribs to almost beyond capacity. let the blood be replenished..."
"trapped inside, my feelings seethe about, seeking expression. i don’t know what they are; i can’t name them..."
