A ripe gripe smacked in tacky spit through thin lips, a wet grape pressed tight between old mauve stained fingertips, inflection a sharp vice, clenched teeth behind my eye. Tugging the cardinal tether, the demur within the protest has spiderwebbed, shattered feathers. Poignant, myopic, idle, distorted. Complaints so shallow, amplified as if of great importance. […]
Maybe I don’t sleep because I’m lonely. Maybe I don’t sleep because I’m stressed. And maybe I don’t sleep because my muse needs me. Sometimes my mind just needs a reminder. breathe and relax.