some days
some days i write nothing at all. it just all stays in my head, i wonder if that’s why some days it feels so heavy. like 90 lbs of solid skull teetering back and forth on my neck bones. some days i wish I could put my skull down. not in the way you do by laying it on a pillow, but physically removed, placed in a soft and quiet place just to find some relief. i tried the chiropractor, but i think he liked the curve of my back too much. i felt the way he looked at me: a project he could not wait to fix-- and the storm of butterflies climbed up my back like pinpricks. “if you stop coming, you’ll spiral into a horrible depression” but i wasn’t interested in his pyramid scheme to happiness. and that’s always the problem, my compulsion for transparency over ignorant bliss. i can’t not turn the key to bluebeard’s forbidden door, no matter how much the it bleeds once I’ve done the one thing I have been forbidden to do--ask the questions that pry at the truth. but i can’t stop. this is the quest back to myself. once the split of my psyche recovers from the infatuation or lust or whatever overindulgence she finds herself mixed up in. she carefully mounts her horse in preparation for the long journey home, again. and just in time for her screaming heart’s execution.
some day, i will learn. but today is not that day.

















