There it is.
Right there.
That’s where it comes from.
The root of it all.
The root of the restlessness.
Branches stretching in all directions.
Growing, wrapping their thorns tightly into the flesh.
Blood drips. Drop after drop, after drop.
Red, warm tears of the heart.
Touch the fire with a cold hand; feel the burn.
The spot under the ribcage to the left, wild flames.
Be still. Don’t move.
It might beat harder, louder.
Don’t move. Be still.
Feel the slow vibration.
Far away in the distance, can’t see through the grey clouds.
Eyes closed.
Darkness.
Emotions.
Thoughts.
The root is strong and deep.
The root is indestructible.
The root is in me.
The root is me.
The root is the heart of a tortured soul.
It is not trapped.
The soul is free.
The cage is wide open.
Go. Go! Damn it Go!
Where?
Nowhere.
Then don’t.
Stay.
And it does.
For now.
…It isn’t sadness that I feel. It isn’t anger or frustration. It’s an emotion that has no words to describe it, other then heaviness and a burning sensation. Physically I can feel it. Emotion that is not only psychological but physical? Strange. Though nothing is strange to me anymore, except that it is happening. It comes and goes. And I know exactly the cause of it… So, when it is here, like at this moment, I do what helps. Writing helps, a little. Perhaps it’s the detachment of the emotions and me. They are not me, and I am not it… Thinking; however, does not help at all. In fact, Saturday morning was a perfect example of self created despair. It didn’t last long because I snapped myself out of it pretty quickly… I woke up 6/7 am with this huge sadness. I don’t remember a dream, but it felt like I must have had a dream because when I woke up, the first thought was of some tragic endings. Intense images flashed, and like a movie it played right in front of me. What would I do? How would I grieve? What would be my place? I was watching a sad movie, sobbing at every thought that emerged. (Yes, I cry at certain movies big time, every time). Then, I just stopped. What the hell am I doing? Creating. Creative minds suck, sometimes. They can get you into trouble… Ok. I should end this mambo jumbo. My ass is hurting from sitting. Oh. Good. Writing did help…
..ha