On Top of Me

   The thoughts that go through my mind everytime I see her would make her take a shower for days. I know we aren't good for each other. We are great for each other. She holds me up when I'm about to fall. I hold her close when she needs it most. I want her in bed next to me. I've had her in bed next to me. She refuses to lay in bed next to me until I get well. I know physically she wants me. I know menatlly she wants me. I know that she steps back to admire what I am becoming, but is worried that I will take steps back to admire someone else.
   I do. I can't stop admiring. Yet, it's not someone else. It's everyone, including her. My wandering eye is who I am. My therapist hasn't commented on it. I don't know why. I think she might think it's intrinsic. Both of them. I can't hide it. I can't skirt around it. Is it something that is wrong? Is it something that is right?



  

The Last 72

Time is moving very slowly, lately. I am still wrapping my head around a lot that has happened, and a lot that has not happened. I seem to have started to dive into a little bit of a mental tailspin, which I'm hoping adds to my painting, but you can never guess these things. My body looked oddly shaped this morning, so I tried not to look at it too hard, in the mirror, this morning. I had three bad dreams in a row. I can't keep certain people out of my head. I want so badly to have organized thoughts. I need a whole day to growl and be unbelievably rude to people. I need my sarcasm to seeth. I......I......I......I...........can't stop my fingers from stuttering as I run them across my keyboard.











It's Nothing, but the Truth

   Last night was rough. I don't know why or what got into my head, but I felt unbelieveably small in my skin. I have a great life. I'm actually feeling healthy, both mentally, and physically. I'm not drinking as much, not smoking as much, and getting good sleep. I'm painting and reading more. the relationship with my son has grown tighter, and healthier. So, what is going on with me. It all seems perfect, or going in the right direction?
   I laid there staring at the ceiling constellations. Thinking over my last few months. Thinking about how I ended up to be, where I am now. I smoked a cigarette, and looked haphazardly at the novel "Ishmael" laying on my end table. I wondered how many people I have come across today with smiling faces, and insides twisted in knots?



Flight

Missing it.