Muffled

Why my tears have now become sticky is beyond me... 

I am the violinist in a sinking Titanic....

I ought to have stopped it, this loving thing, but it just won't go... 

Full capacity loving in my utmost pain and struggles...

I can't make big fancy jewelry anymore, nor do I care of who wants to personalize what at this stage. Enough already, an entire decade of that... 

Come meet me inside my own little world now, for a change. See the littlest things I make. Here is I, a full on spirit in a human experience... 

It's been madness since day one, got jaundice at birth, a hole in my heart, and whatnot. I healed eventually, so that I could go through all the heartaches I was meant to as a fully functioning being in this society. Bummer!!

Although, come to think of it, I can't exactly say I was ever one, a full functioning being in this society. I've rejected it and its things since the get go, but you get my drift... 

I'm still going on. It's still going on. A hundred news to report every day... 

But I'm tired. 

Too many slowed down and stretched out moments in my mind, as I process and fathom things... 

No break for the wicked.

Stuck inside a prison inside another prison, inside a bigger prison. On and on it goes...

I long for Home.

I hope it's time soon...

This time thingy too, what a load of bullocks!

I cuddle a pillow these days when I sleep. I've descended to a new level of pathetic...

But nothing could possibly comfort me lately like the touch of crispy clean cotton bed linen, and the smell of freshly washed fabric. Towels too, I wrap one over the side of my head when sleeping, covering my ears and most of my face. It muffles the sounds, giving a sense of cocooning, and containment. And the texture and smell... a sense of Home.

                            .KHORASAN.