Textling #29

Shoo, shoo, you thoughs and buts, not a word, I am in sleep’s good graces! And, after months of weightlessness, no consequence, more shade than real, I’ve started to fill out a little, materialise.

Last year has shaken, no: nearly untethered me. I say this now, anxious to swirl away insomnia’s worst; safe distance, I declare, and dance a pretty pirouette where past and present fork. The days when I well-nigh stopped wanting – no further than a stone flies; when the desperate need for sleep infested all – hope, wishing, enterprise, and only writing bumbled towards maybe, conceivably.

I do sleep better, occasionally even well. Still, buts and thoughs spit admonitions. Desire and energy grow at wildly disproportionate rates; frustration keeps a tally. I have my moments (the early morning-kind), but fatigue has dug its heels in, and heart stops time with sudden surges. Half of me would like to lock the door, hole up with comrade sleep until I’m sure she’ll never leave; the other half is rearing to go, join a race, a rave, a raucous, preposterous, abandoned thing. I have a foal in me! And a Cassandra.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Textling #29

  1. Hhhmmm… the foal and Cassandra, Leonora Carrington would have painted that for you, and then scribbled down a mesmerising fairy-tale…

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s