stART

Ready To Start.

Today I leave, my smallest in arms.
The eldest at
neighBORS (tension.)
- to speak, say
gnashing teeth
CLapping jaws
to a doctOR-
the plaYER the
piLOT.
are my playthings
a tool
a toy
what is it called?
small steps
leaps across
the sky
Amidst fear
uncertain future
where
wiLL it
go.

sleep.

Sleep is not mine as much these days.

Milk.

brought over from Tumblr - Sept 14. Forgot to put here.

milk.

Soft the scent of

milk, warm.

the room is 

Dark.

Your mind moves

un-able to quiet

to be still as

the small form 

nested in your

arms.

little whimpers, grasping

tiny fingers.

Curled limbs, soft breaths

soft snorts

soft scents.

milk, the sweet scent fills that space

where she lays

in your arms

in the dark quiet

noises small, constant

constant comforts in the nearness

skin to skin

murmuring, wordless reassurances

as she stirs

face turning towards the source

for the current pleasure, of soothing:

the safety of the breast, the milk

that flows

the scent it brings

that pervades everything

for now.

Small sighs

Contended grunts

fading in to soft noises

as once again

Sleep brings again

quiet noises in darkness

in warmth.

ah, the ache

today the ache.

# what.

"you could try harder"

#Where

#

Bones.

Some bones -

They snap easily.

The pain is brief, jarring.

Some bones, they weaken

Over time – before they crumble

A slow pain, you might never feel it until the last moment.

Other bones, they constantly bend

This way, that way-

The pain is a constant thing

Sometimes an ache, other times a brilliant

Cascade before they finally splinter, shattering into a red haze

Of immeasurable pain.

Lately, my bones feel like the last.

Constantly under worry, strain. The bones of thought –

I can see it in my mind.

A forest, the trees made of long bones, some heavy and thick

Others small and light. This Forest of Thought. Their branches reach skyward, leaves of all kinds grow.

Their trunks all bearing, in varying degrees, tooth marks. Some can be felt, their surfaces rough – voices, a child’s laughter can be heard.

Loves gasps, quarrels. These are the thoughts you keep; your memories. Others, their surfaces smooth, just growing – a place for new memories to grow. They are smooth because worrying has yet to mar them.

I my mind, there is a leviathan. It sails through the sky - Great jaws, lined with teeth, gaping

To meet the sun. Great pectoral flippers opened wide to feel the air. A great tail with flukes propelling it through

The sky. It’s flanks marked with lines of glowing colour on it’s otherwise gray-brown body. The jaws are heavy.

The eyes are tired; but the teeth are numerous, the mind is eager.

The broad back bears many scars, as does the belly, the face. It glides in to this forest; uttering a deep booming call.

It resonates through this forest as it comes to a tree; jaws working as it worries the bone. The bones flakes and shudders, the trunk remains firm.

It does not yield, but it is marred yet again. The Leviathan leaves; the haunting call echoing through this Forest of Thought.