my days have become
hourglass shaped
i rise
early morning hours
sit in front of my screen
in quiet stillness
feel alone in the world
reflective
internal
my thoughts warm
tumbled
amorphous
as I slowly wake
thick golden syrup after sleep
this is when I write
food
caffeine
percolates through my veins
brings world into focus
things become narrow
sharper
more goal focused
my wheels turn
a well-oiled machine
i commute
inhabit my day job
a different, sharper me
answer phones
emails
questions
tend to other’s needs
demands
the unwinding
unraveling
starts on the way home
i ooze out of the corset stays
that have contained me all day
simply longing to shrug off
workdays concerns
i have not been able to control the flow
I am without boundaries
drifting further
and further
deeper and deeper
into my dark recesses
I do not mean to go
to all the places
where the pain lives
where I only see failure
inadequacy
where loneliness
isolation
are daggers to the heart
a thousand stinging needles
i can plaster on a smile
offer what I cannot give myself
to others
hide that these evening
and nighttime hours
have become my personal hell
that I am the devil
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
With dawn, creation. Evening, light departs, with it, brightness.
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Beautifully phrased.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Christine Ray – The shape of the day.
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Reblogged this on SPO_OKY and commented:
Christine’s writing hits me straight in the heart. She knows my memories, it seems.
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“a thousand stinging needles
i can plaster on a smile
offer what I cannot give myself
to others” x
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❤
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