Ramblings on a Saturday

 I don't feel comfort in anything, anymore.

Except maybe this tiny orange oval pill.

But even that, in which I pretend to find comfort, 

Doesn't seem to take the edge off like it used to. 

Touch, for the most part, makes my insides squirm.

Affection, makes me nervous and uneasy.

I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin, and maybe then, life would be a breeze

If only for a moment. 

I don't know what it's like to sleep,

In my bed,

Without waking up with a clenched jaw.

It seems that only in foreign beds,  I get a wink of deep sleep.

My body hurts,

I feel the tension in each muscle, each joint... just trauma circulating not knowing where to go.

I am disgusted in the comfort I've found in my recent size... because I am not comfortable, even though I've allowed myself to sit here, instead of starve myself like I would have just a few short years ago. 

How

I 

Wish

I

Could

Starve.

Maybe then, I would feel more in control.

But I feel detached...

Tethering away from my body,

Floating away,

Dispersing as a "soul."

I ache.

I ache like a wretched hag.

One who is lonely and lost in the woods...

But finds peace in the nature and the liveliness of the wild animals around her.

I yearn.

For this limbo-like feeling to flee.

I just want to be wild again...

And when I get glimpses of it, I feel free.

How do I break free again? 

Without shattering my entire life...

Maybe ridding of all that is "my life" is the answer.

Maybe a clean slate,

Like asphalt after a warm summer rain...

So fresh, so warm, so grounding.

Let me be...

Free.

Deal with the Devil

 I had a glass of whiskey with the Devil.

She told me her secrets,

I promised to keep them,

Under one condition. 

She'd give me her heart,

In exchange for my silence,

And shower me in roses and lust until the night ended.

But you see in her world,

The night never ends.

The stars always shine, and the moon never sets.

So lust and roses became my norm,

While the rest of the world, lived blissfully in ignorance.

My romance with the Devil is a delicate treat,

Her skin soft as butter, and her lips honey sweet.

 Her body moves oceans, and ripples the tide.

Her moans sound like thunder on dark stormy nights.

Her ecstasy is the lightening- that surrounds the spark in my soul. 

I made a deal with the Devil, and I'll never let it go.

What is My Lesson?

 What is my lesson?

Why must I love those that struggle with the venom of addiction?
Why must my soul be torn, tattered, and tortured?
My love is all encompassing, and unconditional.
My heart, though bruised, continues to be given away by my own doing.

I dig deep, only to find scars that run deeper than this lifetime.
Losses that have molded my soul.
I am on the brink of a breakthrough, spiritually and emotionally, and it terrifies me.

What will this journey look like?
What will this lesson teach me?
Will my heart learn to thrive in the pain, or succumb to its grip?

Morning Memphis Meditation

 Woke up in a different state,

A different state of mind.

Crickets chirp, and roosters sing

A song of simple times.

Coffee fills my senses,

Overflowing with pure bliss.

Taking in this slower pace,

And matching breath with it.

Soul Search

 What am I doing?

Where am I going?

Who am I?

Cycles

Circles

Soul Search

Awake, Exhausted

 Awake.

Exhausted. 

Pondering why.

Why am I awake?

Why am I...

Wondering ?

Aching to rest my weary eyes.

And soothe my tired soul.

This simulation is overrated. 

My depression is muted. 

Clawing from the inside of my soul,

Begging and hoping to dance and smile without those serotonin producing pills.

But for now,

I shall bask in this manufactured happiness. 

Softening

Her eyes were adorned with dark circles...

She stared at them with disgust for years- but this morning was different.

This morning her grimace softened as she examined these dark circles that encased her sea foam green eyes.
Today, she saw beauty...
She saw strength.

She swore that her eyes were turning more blue with each passing day.

Today she witnessed her grit.
The fight to be, and to stay alive...
And that, was fucking beautiful.

Though tired, she was a warrior.
Her face softened into a smile, and her heart softened with understanding.

Her hand traced the imperfections on her face... then to her lips.
Oh, how those lips were drenched with unspoken words and secrets alike.

Her lips remembered the taste of travel, the taste of tears, and the taste of lovers.

There was something about her soul that ignited a magic within her... a fiery storm.

It was so easy for her to get lost in the nuances and idiosyncrasies of the exhilarating uncertainty.
Yet she loved every minute of it....

And though drenched in dark circles... her eyes whispered how they couldn't wait for their next glimpse of passion , adventure, lust, and love.
For their next glimpse of the experience we call "Life."