Musings


Sitting at the water's edge wondering why I'm back again, it's like the joy of the last 6 months never happened, like a building made of straws it only required the faintest effort to blow it all away and I'm back where I swore the last time was the last time.

It's like the world feeds off my mystery. I'm like a newly wed maiden who's being pushed to birth an offspring when they all know the agony of the process. Everyone wants to gaze on a new born, an experience they've had a hundred times over but they will not be satisfied till my pain becomes another one of their conquests. They will watch me groan and writhe in pain for their own pleasure. They rejoice at the cry of the child, then eat and drink while the mother nurse from a sore bossom.

There I go again turning my musings and mystery into psalms, I'm like a bird crying in the wilderness which passersby mistake for a beautiful song.
This is not a poem, it is a cry for help

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