Break to a small town
The new year and a new start is what is drilled into our pee brain human minds. One who is faced with many obstacles can either crawl or drown. The stage of being shocked is still raw slapped across my face. The month of December is historically my worst month financially and emotionally as well as ...read more
The clouds are rolling in over the atmosphere as do our emotions sweep our thoughts; the rain falls from the clouds as do are tears from our eyes. Since I publicly named myself a writer/artist my inspiration has erupted into emptiness similar to a volcano rushing from the earth. Tortured thought cycles and miss guided emotions attaching on any spark of attention I can find. The inner comfort has left me bleeding from my nails leaving stained streaks along my paths. Am I humble, this new loneliness that was engaged from my separation from the city has left my blood cold and green with sickness? I am dying, much like a rose in a vase of stale water. Dying by one lifeless rose petal at a time. The scabs formed from the wounds are still healing my exterior but, the inside is wilting. Sleeping is my new hobby and abolishes everything else; my dreams in which I cannot remember are what I cherish. Memories that I create are only temporary and vanish once I awake the next morning leaving my thoughts open. An overwhelming sadness burns my daily tasks. A horizon is in my near future and the clouds seem to be becoming overcast with slight rays of sunshine sprouting down on my grey road. I admit the cautious approach to a new future is present and my wall feels to be higher than five years ago, naturally of course. The immediacy of my life that I once knew is now spread out like the oil leak in the gulf dumping 250 million gallons a day. My hope is this sprouting ray of sunshine I feel is warming in my cold heart.
I am in poverty, Rent is terribly high, and I have a great job. I like what I do, I am busy, respected, proven. I cannot continue to support myself in a destructive pattern. My needs and demands are high and among my self interest for greater worth. I need to move on, back to my roots and develop a career where I can feel confidence, self worth, and passion for life. I am at ends with *_____. The future is a mere flicker of a candle that is not meant to be held by the puppeteer. The end of June is my last day. Please understand.
My knuckles seized to move, this is the end, we are nearly crying for the day.
The fight I battle from inner disbelief. The end to a self loathing experiment.
My stomach pits in disgust. My life is ending in every key stroke.
Sitting, with my face and the guilt in a coward’s tale of misfortune.