Sitting on the cliff, with her legs dangling over
She watches the clouds swirl, and drifts from one dream to another The ship she had longed for, to take her away Transforms into a prison, forcing her to stay Her heart is charred black, a mere lump in her chest It no longer beats, forever taking its rest She wonders what could’ve been, if she had persisted But realizes the hopelessness of wishing for difference The wind blows her hair, the one coming in off the sea And she closes her eyes, head back, neck free For on the cold breeze, a darkness whispers softly One who’s devilish words force her mind into quandary Does she give in, does she put up a fight Or will she be seduced by the inviting, endless night She struggles and thrashes, silently screaming for an end But the voice in her head tells her, in no way will she win Then the shudder flows through her, the one she had fought And her thoughts are suddenly centered on one pleasurable thought It is blood that she wants, what her body is craving She gives herself over, at once fierce and brazen No one is safe, no one to resist her wiles A beauty unlike any within thousands of miles She smiles as her fangs pierce her red lips like a thorn Knowing she’ll be the one of which all ghost stories are born
0 Comments
I’m going to admit something that may make me wildly unpopular, but it’s how I feel, so I’m going to share it.
I don’t like Christmas. It’s been a gradual spiral over the years, but yesterday, I actually said the words out loud. Well, screamed them…to an empty house…along with some kicking of things, and maybe a thrown item here and there, if we’re to be totally honest. Please don’t get me wrong. I fully embrace the reason for Christmas and what it represents – the birth of our Lord, Jesus Christ. I’ve made sure my girls understand that this season is much more than Christmas trees and presents, and I’ve enjoyed watching them embrace that message more and more as the years go by. But, I dread this time of year; and this particular one has been harder than most. I hate putting up the Christmas tree. I hate Christmas shopping (with a passion). I can’t stand looking at Christmas lights and I honestly think people who wait in line for 3 hours to drive through a neighborhood or a lakeside light display are insane. It’s just crazy to me. I hate Elf on the Shelf. Like, I really, REALLY hate that damn thing and would joyfully set it on fire if it wouldn’t traumatize my kids for life. So yeah, I’m that person who hates the whole process and heaves a crazy huge sigh of relief on December 26th when I can pack it away for another year. These past six months have been so intense. I’ve seen some really low lows, and I’ve flown on some of the highest highs there are (figuratively speaking, of course). I completed my book and when I realized it was done, well, it’s one of the proudest moments I’ve ever experienced. Now, all that’s left is editing and then getting it out there. I’ve given this book and these characters my heart, my tears, and my anger. This story is so deeply connected to me and I just can’t wait for people to read it. I finished it this past weekend, and the day after, I sunk into that always-lurking pit of darkness. I fell fast and deep, and I’m still trying to pull myself out. I’ve had horrible thoughts, cried buckets, and tried my damndest to figure out what triggered it. Have I? No. I don’t know that I ever will, really. It always seems to take me by surprise how fast I can go from feeling a little off to downright despair and hopelessness. I wish MDD was like a hurricane. Something that can be predicted and prepared for. Maybe someday doctors will find a way to predict these episodes. I guess that’s not too much of an impossibility. But, if they do, and I’m still alive, I want to be the first one in line for it. Anyway, we have 8 more days. Eight days to get through. I can do this. But. Bah! Humbug! |
Archives
July 2019
|