I feel better today, still recluse though, I think I like it better
that way. Maybe I'll wallow around inside myself for a while, and write
some poetry, while still allowing the outside world to continue with
it's pseudo-forward momentum, and it's all-important happenings. It's
comfortable in here. Time has no measure, and words have lost their
meaning, they have taken a walk, much like my sanity it seems. My
insides
have started to mend, I can feel the dullness from my freshly
dispensed pain, and the chill of my once brewing tears, their moisture
hangs on the walls of my heart like dew. Making it seem evermore like a
morning in early autumn, with grey clouds and nipping air, dew on the
ground and silence surrounds those who choose to venture outside. I
chose, not by choice , but by chance, and the cruel mistress that seals
my fate lay beautifully in her bed, our bed, asleep and dreaming of us.
I wish I could do the same without thinking about all that is wrong. But
the mind ventures down it's own path, especially when the host has lost
control, and control is an aspect of life I have not experienced for some
time.
Gusto.