My Shadow…again

The Daemon never sleeps. Rests, perhaps. I should be so lucky for it to actually fall into deep slumber. Or even better, a coma. Alas, not this gnarled Beast with its fingers clutched around my brain, my heart, my stomach.

Days roll, soundless, effortless. Good ones. Strong ones. 

Thoughts, clear and crisp and full of hope and opportunity, tumble on low heat.

I get dressed. I put on makeup. I do my hair. I do laundry. I dust the furniture. I sweep the floor.

How long will this last? What will be the trigger? How tightly can I grip the wheel so IT doesn’t rouse? 

If I can just. . .

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s