Nov. 01, 2004 - 3:30 p.m.
This is what happens when your love affair with the muse ends badly. I have so much I need to get out, and the words seem to slip relentlessly through my grasp. I have had so much shoved into and pulled out of me and twisted up inside, and everything is so murky and confusing, and understanding is such a foreign concept right now, I cannot even reply to the most simplest of questions wiithout having reams of jumbled information swirl around in my head, until I no longer even recall the original query.
I feel like sinking to the bottom of the ocean for some peace of mind. My body cannot decide whether its had too much or not enough. I am this open book, left lying on the floor, getting nibbled at by the library rat.
My dragon is restless, and I am unsure if I want to cry or scream. I feel like I've forgotten how to breathe. I have been taken apart and put back together, but I think some pieces were missing, so this creature that has me in his hands has decided that anything lying around should work well enough, so these foreign pieces have been shoved in any which way.
I'm burning up inside, and afraid that the end is inevitable, where I burn up and rise again anew, and I am so off schedule. But the temperature is rising, and the flames are licking at my feet and my hands are burning embers, and there is no way to pull back. I can only forge ahead, and pray that this new incarnation resembles my safe and sane world in some way, and I do not completely become subsumed in the transformation. I pray that something of this life I love and know survives, because this is not the way it is suppose to happen. I am not ready for it this time. It is too early, and I am not finished with this old life.
Sorrow and fear should never mark the beginning. But when has anything in my life ever followed the prescribed route? I have days, I have minutes left to pour myself out before I fill up with this new thing, this overwhelming THING that is ricocheting around in my skull, screaming for attention and entry.
And when I lose another piece of myself in the hurricane that washes me clean, will I lose the knowledge, the memory, the love I have for this life?
I have a vessel that can hold much, but not all of what I've become, but dare I use that last sacred thing that I love, and how do I decide what I keep and what is necessary for me to lose with only a moment in time to make a decision affecting me for another eternity?
Have I lost you yet in the confusion of this moment? Because I fear that I left my mind back somewhere in this chaotic rhetoric.
