Broken Words

In places of last retreat rumination holds Court,
seemingly lost and seemingly found,
no loss no found
as easy to hang on to as not,
matters not,
inconsequential or so it seems,
no purpose yet always anew,
much ado about nothing,
ruminate roaming,
here just for you,
an anchor or buoy you shall be,
keep you up just enough to breathe,
water board boarding unbounded,
and after all is said and gone,
it matters and matters not,
never even to be or not to be,
water soaked thoughts always afloat,
never spoken out loud,
left where lost is also found,
silent numbness pouring wet,
rotten dry sighs high in the chest,
not hear to be heard or there to be in their midst,
a clutched at hand,
a me memory not had,
rumination would much rather be,
anything else than a place of last retreat

I am sparing a thought and wish for Beautiful Colours for Colours of Madness who’s gifts are unbounded visually and sounded out too. Miraculous.


I am starting to lose myself again, I’ve had the burning need to lock myself away somewhere alone and just write until I’ve processed my entire life for a week now. I had a series of epiphanies that cracked open a box inside and brought something into the forefront through Scribe. Suddenly words were taking over my brain, if I stopped writing and closed my eyes I saw them and heard them at the same time but in different ways, incessant stories, triggers, memories, reminders, realisations and connections were suddenlybeing made faster than we could write them down.

The power and fury behind it all would have been terrifying if it hadn’t been so all consuming that I didn’t have time to notice.

It came to a head Monday night with my whole body shuddered over and over, the tension was building and I knew I was about to…

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