THE EFFORT TO COMMUNICATE
When the feeling-words inside the soul
translate, bloodless and pale,
to the page. And passions die. . .
When the ‘real’ world involves
death trolling in nearby waters;
impending personal disasters, real or imagined;
depression, the demon who says that
nothing matters and no one cares. . .
It is easy to succumb at times
or to rage against the mental chains.
“Do something else. You don’t have to be here.
You’ll feel better if you play a game.
Let time pass, you’ll get back to it…”
So goes the patter in my mind.
I’ve been working on this post for 3 days.
I have no excuse.
I don’t write because I don’t write.
Maybe I enjoy kicking myself.
Punishing myself for punishing myself.
Is there closure or resolution?
Not that often. Sometimes there is only slow change.