Discomfort.
My mind is itchy, scabby, oozing where it’s scratched itself raw.
My body aches and pinches, the hollow parts filled with vinegar and steel wool.
Gravity increases.
Distraction telescopes out of reach, leaving only the rote movements.
My hands do them anyway, a prayer, a coax, a thing to do
when there is nothing to be done.
Jul 29, 2019 @ 05:08:46
This is so visceral, Sandy, and I am so sorry you are in this space right now. Hoping the tide turns very soon….
Jul 29, 2019 @ 09:08:16
❤ I’m here a lot, so it’s good to have sweet words from friends like you to greet me. And it’s good to have a map from all the other visits here.