I feel like Yeat's tightened bow. like something is waiting to break. i think this has always been a part of me but a part that has laid dormant in me, waiting, like a hunched shadowy figure in my own shadows to come and relish in the agony it which it gratefully finds me. the noises of children; people...brings out this tense impatient angular creature that just longs for stoppage and for silence and for stillness.
i feel inhabited by angles and agony. i feel inhabited by tense misery that sits comfortable in me and relishes in my lack of desire to wake to the day and instead coaxes me to abandon myself; to leave my hair unwashed; to shy away from the sun and cherish the damp dark of solitude.
only when all sleep do i feel free. and like the last breath of living it takes so long for sleep to come and bring
some kind of solace and peace.
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