Skip to main content

B is for Tied (to nothingness)

i
don't
particularly feel
like doing anything
anything at all for anyone at all

i
need...
sigh, i need to shake this off
i want to be free from the borrowing and the asking
for everything - the fear of getting nothing or not nearly enough
and i need nearly enough
more that that really
i
i need
i need to be free...


Help me Lord to know what that means...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Play of the Week WK #6

B is for The Haunting October

--> I first felt it in the shower. Nostalgia. Creeping up my leg and resting on my shoulder. Bony fingers caresses in that sickeningly sweet way nostalgia often does. It was the end of September or the beginning of October... That night in the shower when I remembered an old October, reading poetry at a wine factory; with sandwiches as big as your face. And I remembered two tables. Friends and a girl. And it was October. The sealing of fate. 2008.
Days passed but not before the memory of darkness and a knife. The surgery that changed me... And it was October. October or go to Heaven. 2007.
Time passed and so did my expectations. Fluctuations in blood flow in the head causes heart to flutter for another. Infatuation of the highest order. The beginning of tears and sighs of"it's not fair" and the wandering nature of soul; I'm done, turn me over. And it was October. All my queries I vowed to shelve. 2012.
And Sunday. When I threw the scroll and claimed I was don…

B is for Covered in Stupid (Gym Day)

I started to groan the second the mobile started ringing off. I could ignore it but he’d call. And call. And call. He’s a boy like that. I roll my eyes as ‘Barely Breathing’ continues to play. It seemed like a good idea at the time to have that as my ringtone. “Hi,” He stretches it out. He always stretches his ‘hi’s’ like some strange game show announcer, “listen, I’m so sorry, but I’m gonna be… I don’t know, fifteen minutes late. Max.” He sounded contrite. He kept rattling off what the day was like and why he’d be late; the wind, whipping into his mobile as he spoke. I felt horrid about what I was going to tell him. “I’m not going.” I said after a breath He said nothing. All I heard was the wind; followed by the honking horn and the screaming. “Sorry, bad drive. What were you saying now?” “You heard.” “I hate you, you know that.” I smiled. It wasn’t funny but it was. I knew if I was near, he’d probably throw something or a few 'somethings' in my direction. Gym was a religious order…