Twenty years old and I am still afraid of the dark.
The woods and hills metastasize into one
Black Giant And
Make me feel small and
so insignificant.
In the darkness I shrink Or
Perhaps the shadows grow. Yes.
It must be the shadow are growing
They're threatening to swallow me and
I'm not ready yet or ever.
I don't want to be alone in the dark at night.

My dialogues and monologues sound better in my head.

The smokiness of the sencha is doing wonders
To fight off the thick fog that has settled in my brain
And chilled my limbs to sluggishness.
Not the shocking electricity
Battering ram of Columbian brew but
Cleaner.
Smoky topaz clarity, wizened.

I miss things that I shouldn't miss.
Makes me feel stupid
Handicapped
Bound and gagged and tied to
The past.
I need a knife to cut myself free No, NO
No knives I need air and space to breathe.
Breathing and thinking but NOT
Too much. It Hurts. Or
Is it remembering that hurts?

Image shopping is draining. I feel
Small again and the darkness is creeping in.