some days
some days i write nothing at all. it just all stays in my head, i wonder if thatās why some days it feels so heavy. like 90 lbs of solid skull teetering back and forth on my neck bones. some days i wish I could put my skull down. not in the way you do by laying it on a pillow, but physically removed, placed in a soft and quiet place just to find some relief. i tried the chiropractor, but i think he liked the curve of my back too much. i felt the way he looked at me: a project he could not wait to fix-- and the storm of butterflies climbed up my back like pinpricks. āif you stop coming, youāll spiral into a horrible depressionā but i wasnāt interested in his pyramid scheme to happiness. and thatās always the problem, my compulsion for transparency over ignorant bliss. i canāt not turn the key to bluebeardās forbidden door, no matter how much the it bleeds once Iāve done the one thing I have been forbidden to do--ask the questions that pry at the truth. but i canāt stop. this is the quest back to myself. once the split of my psyche recovers from the infatuation or lust or whatever overindulgence she finds herself mixed up in. she carefully mounts her horse in preparation for the long journey home, again. and just in time for her screaming heartās execution.
some day, i will learn. but today is not that day.














