the platitudes of willful resemblance

It’s raining finally. Meaning that I will not have to go out and water the lawn, the clouds and atmosphere are pulling together and putting water and nutrients into my half assed attempt at an enviable lawn. Rained all night but that didn’t come with the usual good sleep, flashes of lightening, bad dreams, and strange noises kept me awake with one hand on my .45 (the strange noises) but last nights sleep was an improvement over the night before. I had seemingly been cured of the plaguing insomnia or I had nearly been convinced that I had been cured through medication which may have helped the sleep and is now weeping out from my skin as I have suspended this particular prescription. Why? I couldn’t write and I was too medicated to be angry about it. I’ve thrashed most of what I had written while on this last attempt at stability. I realize now that I prefer walking on the fine edge of a razor blade to the life that medication offers you.
Wow, from simple rain to the complex world of anti-psychotics.

The walls may start to bleed again, disembodied eyes may watch me from the windows, the noise is coming back slowly slowly slowly and I’m getting the headaches again here and there, here and there. Still not feeling anger but able to meditate and breathe when the air isn’t suffocated from under the glass walls.
– it’s the good rain that does it, makes me nostalgic for a more unhinged period of my life.

elements

eating dinner by
two candle power
light
& glasses of water like

goblets of wine
between us,
we eat slowly,

laugh heartily
and are only drowning

in concern

               under
clean skin, made
beautiful by artificial
means.

 – Hoc Scripsi