Dry mouths.

I didn't know feeling empty could be so exhausting. Because the day drives at 60 mph and though I am merely a bicycle on a highway, I could sleep for many more nights than I can count. I've become too tired from trying to care when I simply don't. How can one explain that to destiny? That everything firmly rooted in my soul is under my direction yet I have lost the will to prompt it forward.

- Morning stirs and mixes milky residue into my coffee mug. I sip and sip and swallow even though nothing can hydrate me, anymore -

I daydream about how you found out, about the enclosed space and the wooden pews where I voiced the darkest side of me, never daring to leave a trail of tears behind.

- The sun wakes me up, slowly, as I try to appear strong with no cracks on my surface so I am the mountain others seek to climb in search of faith -

There is another side to me, a hidden valley where language is muffled and I am suddenly not welcome, no matter how I come. Thoughts spin me and I push those who wait beside me away, like heaving against the weight of stones in order to step out into an undiscovered light. I wonder if what I do is an addiction, the unreality that pierces the delicate lining of reality.... an addiction not evident in glass bottles or used needles, no, for this addiction is ironed onto bodies.

- Clouds blanket me, symphonies shatter me, and the half moon on my lips becomes an illusion. I am made dizzy by the day until night escapes my mouth and sputters out the anarchy I have originated from -

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Written 6/18/14 @ 10:31 AM