Blog loving music poetry WRITING

once more

once more

excessive writing is indicative of a pattern, a ‘tool’ i’ve used to manage emotions among other things. often it accompanies a sense of spiraling, but not out of control; just spiraling, up or down of no consequence.

love is my muse, and books the sheets i sleep in, without regard to their loyalty or understanding as related to the worn threads of my blanket. i don’t really want to write so much as be held, nor instruct or inspire so much as rest within another’s fire.

there are days like these that feel as if the race is finished and begun simultaneously, but i’m wearing no badge and my efforts haven’t been assigned any number. restless with an unnameable need that not even in prayer i’ve found a way to articulate. my grandmother said god knows our needs, so i dispense with the worry to speak, yet ever wonder in what ways to act.

today is not a day of peace nor a day of turmoil. it’s not a day of loneliness, but aloneness is ever so slightly highlighted in yellow, not in study, but beside the lamp and the titles i’ve chosen to sleep with once more, aware that once more may have no following.

today is not a day of sadness nor a day of joy. it’s not a day of stoicism, but expression is ever so slightly unreadable, not in its creases, but in its stretch beside the artistic designs i’ve chosen to sew with once more, aware that once more may leave me naked.


today is a day i’m naked.

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