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Showing results for tags 'oh well'.
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there's a fog in my mind and bees in my throat there is a deafening silent pain to being sick and things to be done are sailboats caught on a tide i am reaching, grasping— wading through molasses my voice is locked inside my chest and my thoughts alongside it drop it to the bottom of the ocean may the mermaids guard it i'll see you when i relearn to swim
dawn is an image i do not often experience. i am sleep-weary and bedridden by thoughts of what must i do today of can i make the deadline and yet there's that wren, outside my window singing her constant, consistent song. i wonder if she knows i can hear her. i wonder if she cares. last night, midnight hues and headache pounding footsteps on a carpet and my father's voice, goodnight children i have to go run before it's midnight one look at my face and forehead crinkles you look exhausted. go to sleep. there are not enough hours for all the things i want to do; my canvas is large and i am running out of paint. why must the stars be so welcoming? why must daybreak beckon with watercolor pastels? i am afraid of death but it's less about the dying— i am afraid of numb mind, eternal sleep. there's so many colors i'm picasso or kandinsky, tie-dye 80s craze because i can't choose an hour to wake in (instead i choose them all.) wake up, says the wren. you have so much to do. i am infinity, i am a mobius strip. welcome to my ouroboros.