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I'm working through the evening. Best to keep the few grains of sanity stuck between
my toes. I fell silent, was seen walking quiet, tusseled hair and hand scratching
chin. Might've been seen as thoughtful. I can't help but think about it all since
it's coming upon the year anniversary of many awful things that inform where I am now
and how I came to this place. It's stuck in my gut and lodged thru my soul and it eats
at my table like a sloven, unwanted guest. Greedy and sick and just enough my reflection
that I can't turn it away. But it's not me. It's not me.
That's what time and memory and points of reference and comparison do to you. They can
affirm certain positive actions, but some things just can't be changed. Here's head then,
turning itself inside out to purge the sorrow. Look here, I don't know anymore, or at least,
most days, what supposed to add up looks more like multiplying fractions. I doubt you know
either now my friend, 350 days underground, but whose gonna ask you
to? Us up here, we just get to sort through whatever's left.
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