You Can't Handle The Truth.
But let's try some, anyway.
Well, in truth, I started the wee early morning with a healthy fruit smoothie.
But then added more than a justifiable amount of vodka.
Because I am at the kitchen counter,
in a semi-colon (horrid posture!),
at the laptop, HEAVING FOR AIR.
Because all the dirty cops, and hired liars,
and master manipulators, and wealthy wizards
who have mesmerized the world
with their light-forsaken rule...
which has been so, tragically, effective...
...all of that hot-n-steamy,
systemic pile of soulless 💩
bums me out, sometimes.
So, I poured more.
To feel less.
(And of course, we know it doesn't work that way.)
But this *is* how addiction and suicide-ideation starts.
And my sensitive, heaving, semi-drunk ass TAPPED IN...
to the heart-heaving hurt that is happening --
and heightening -- at the weeeeee hours.
The WE hours.
The You and Me hours.
Know that I FEEL YOU.
I wanna reach you,
to assure that it does get greater later, 'gator 🐊.
But it will first, get worse. Hence, the heaving.
Because empaths are grieving, first.
Our eyes and hearts just burst.
For peace and beauty, we thirst.
Until we remember who and what we are...
AND WE DANCE,
AND MAKE RAIN,
AND THIRST NO MORE. 🖤
Leave a Reply.