Dipping down- here in all of me

My toes touching the edges of the abyss.  I see it yawning before me vast and ink black, a gaping pit and I feel the muscles in my shoulders tense. My calves tauten, and I ache to maintain equilibrium. Perhaps I have been stable too long.

Here, in this non place,  I am so painfully alone. It cuts.  It is not real, but that is what makes it so terrible. It does not have to be in order to feel. I understand why people chase the pharmaceutical dragon, I really do. I realize for some it is the only way, where as for me, it would only be the easy way.  I have never been one to lean toward the road more traveled.  But more over, truth be told the persona altering effects of big Daddy Pharma pulsing through my veins scares the ever loving crap out of me.

I am already too many pieces to deal with new ones born of anti-psychotics or anti-depressants or mood stabilizers; et al. The ever shifting were-cocktails they ply brains with in order to help them. On that note, I have noticed a few new fractions lately, perhaps they are merely old pieces forging together to become something new. I don’t exactly know, I sort of watch like an impartial observer when writing from this side. At least they are not so torn inside as others.

Right now, I feel like the oldest component, but I don’t know if that is true. When I write/think/speak like this it comes off disassociative. I never think of myself that way though, as I do not lose time or memory to the shifts. I think this part is the one pretending it could be core if only I worked like that.  I think that is in part where the loneliness comes from, as this piece of me feels alone in the maelstrom of fractures that is all of me.  A cloud not a column.  A circus without a Ringmaster.

 

Joy triggers

me: “Did that last message bring a smile to your face?”

Zed: “Oh yeah”

Leaning back, I close my eyes, phone dangling from my hand as I pull the image into the forefront of my mind.  That dashing, quirky, crooked little grin stealing over his face and splitting into the flash of a toothy smile. His eyes crinkled; sparkling.

A slow blush paints my face, soft petal pink.  I am grinning like an idiot. Flooded with the pleasure at just the memory, the thought, of his smiling face. I am sure I just don’t remember or maybe  I really haven’t ever felt quite like this.

Wordiness in poetic shapes

Lean, strong fingers snaked through mine, palm to palm suffusing me with warmth, filling me with happiness

Long bodied, tall, he is a being all of angles and light. I can not gaze upon him and refrain from smiling.

A mind keen as a straight razor’s honed edge cutting with curiosity

equally overflowing with an eagerness born of inexperience and brilliance

I am of curves and shadows, not light nor dark, an amalgamate.

Yet how could one so bright not draw me?

Inexorably

 

 

A hinged heart

falls open in your hand.  It reveals within it’s secret core a spiral staircase dropping down into dizzying depths. Within this tarnished, scuffed and battered heart is a coiling space defying set of stone steps bordered cozily by a snug twining guard rail.

It is far too small cupped within your palm. Yet it grows far to heavy to hold and as you set it down the opening grows.   Larger and larger expanding until you unconsciously step inside placing your foot upon that beckoning first step.

In and down you go, the hinges creaking as the heavy leaden lid drops closed taking the light with it; followed by a numbing silence. A dim glow begins to flicker down, down, down the spiral.

Only one way to go from here.

Word painting; colors of sound

Her fingers gently run the length of the steel strings, eyes closed, she lets the sensation impress upon her memory. Resting a cheek against the smooth lacquer she breathes in the scent of the wood. Her eyes flutter open as her left hand finds the familiar shapes, right hand strokes down and the guitar’s voice speaks.