I fell down the stairs: I’m just Tired

Normal people just say “I’m Tired,” but for a writer it is never that simple. Those words would never describe inside. A mind filled with commas, spaces, poetic pauses, and multiple literally elements is far too convoluted and filled to use common words.

This is me saying I’m tired. This is me saying I want to take a nap. Talk about dramatic!

~I took a step and thought it was firm. The bottom of the staircase bruised and beaten I look up for help. Raise my hands, grab the edge, and yell.

Today is still a good day, I remind myself. Just a little blood, a twisted ankle, and wrangled back – my watch still works. It’s 5:00 o’clock, the entire night is ahead. I have people to call, words to look up, day dreams to scribble down, I got to get up. But it feels good to lay down for once. The blood is warm. My foot looks like a puppet’s, without its master. ~

An Incantation for Ancestral Power

If I ever find myself weak, weak in thought and weak in spirit, may I be reminded of the infinite power of my ancestors. May I dip myself in their prayers and hymnal voices. Drought, death, and dread could not spear their souls. Why shall I encourage power less than mine to overcome.

The dead walk beside me, they course through me. I am because they were. “I come as one, but stand as 10,000.”

How Do I Stop This Tape??

I tire of the repeated stories in my head. I grow bored of the constant replay and edits. Is their no sanity in this mind? I am not my past. I am the present. These words ring wonders but the practicing of it, not so much. Why is it so easy to replay pain but hard to imagine glory? My day is filled with fighting my mind from wandering into the pits. Why are we all so plagued with the belief that we must suffer? We are obsessed with the idea of struggle. Man vs Man. Man vs Nature. Man vs Himself. Elementary, my dear Watson. It makes a good story. Cinema. Lights, Camera, Action!

I want to see without thinking for once. I want to feel without feeling. I want to exist without the rotating, “Why Do I Exist?” Can I sip tea and be merry in the motion of sipping?