It’s hard to think deeply unsettled as shells half-baked and empty on the sand. Only fingers can change my view. Otherwise, I can only wait the eons between high and low sea tides. Even then, no life hangs to my sides, though it was life that I came to be.
Tag: anxiety relief
Off Kilter
I crouch in a dark room. Sun closed off. Sky closed off. Curtains, keep all sight away, because my chest is painfully tight and a hole is burning through me for no reason, and it blisters against the thoughts screaming "Why?" But there's really no answer to that. Or an answer too large to hold, … Continue reading Off Kilter
Dandruff and Mothers
I don't have time to meet the end, I'm picking at my scalp and wondering-- no, knowing, you'll never try to change it. They call it pride. You call it personality. And I try at scabs and puss and stuff to distract me from never seeing you, because your demons had always danced and sung … Continue reading Dandruff and Mothers
Tell Me How To Fix My Drug
Tell me how to fix my drug. I'll gladly yield my chains to the pill that gives me no high, no pleasant side effect, just the ability to almost almost feel normal. So tell me how to fix my drug. Tell me to take walks in the sunlit muse of evergreens and myrtle trees, and … Continue reading Tell Me How To Fix My Drug
Scrape Me Off
Scrape me off till I'm just bone, no muscles left to ache. Leave me limp on somewhere soft and in the sun to bake. Pop my joints, let nothing stick to aggravate or scorn. And when I'm done resting in peace, put me back once more.
The Day My Brain Busts
I whisper to myself jealously that I'll be alright. My body's gone this far. My brain will be the first to shut down, like an engine with just one too many miles. But the rest of me is still fresh. But tomorrow I will be clean. Start at dawn clean the places I have been, … Continue reading The Day My Brain Busts
The Taste of Sky
Let me breathe somewhere deep. The scraggy mountains call to me, entreating why I do not run or leap, or bound or climb their limbs. Breathe. And taste the line where sky and stone meet. But my feet are soft, the mountains far and my body lax with care. For while I leap and dance … Continue reading The Taste of Sky
Morning Sickness
Last the days though one night is impossible. Survival through sheer what? Enduring cannot be wasting and withering, and begging for death. Many others have survived. Speak of the night like a fond ghost story, still tingling with horror, because newborns are worth it. Worth it... It's not the worth I fear, nor the lack … Continue reading Morning Sickness
Remember to Crush the Daisies
My eldest son, when he was not quite two, loved crushing the daisies that grow like dandelions in coastal Oregon. He'd yank them up, then crush them with a satisfied "Doh!" Yeah, probably the cutest thing on the whole dang planet. But, then again, I'm his mother. Biased to the extreme. Yet, at the same … Continue reading Remember to Crush the Daisies
Breathe
Come here. Sit at the foot of my bed. The walls are strong, and it's quiet here. You can breathe. Because, I hear, that you hardly get enough air these days, and your poor chest is breaking for breath. So just come here a moment, sit at the foot of my bed, and breathe. Breathe. … Continue reading Breathe
Author T.S. Lowe 