![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
witchscauldronFridays feel crazy, like a frantic bird, wounded where my heart should be. Thursdays pass the time well until Friday...teaching and then movies make it smooth. Wednesdays I awake in the heart of a glacier; cold, unmoving, deep blues, numb. Tuesday's child is full of grace, but as such Tuesdays vary wildly, like my moods. Half the time they're joyous at night but I wake up alone the next morning, the other half they're a constant grey-veiled nothing and I still wake up alone. Mondays are ok...my heart is still singing from the weekend. Saturday and Sunday someone turns the light on and comes home to my hearth and heart.
I wonder if he finds a bleeding, half-dead bird inside the door.
So it's Friday again. I haven't been sleeping well all week...I got my bare-minimum 8 hours one day, and the rest of the week I've been getting 6. I'm so tired I feel stoned, and yet I can't sleep most of the time. Falling asleep is a herculean act of will that takes far too long, and napping doesn't seem to happen. Wit's end with it.
Last night I dreamed someone made a witch's brew in a bath tub. Toxic, noxious concoction the colour of ashes and disappointments. 2 minutes would cleanse and clean, 3 would purify with poison...5 was fatal. I remember getting some on my arm, and it eating through a chunk of flesh, leaving black edges and an empty hole that reached bone. It was as if I was hollow. I ran, looking for something to fill the space inside me...but found nothing but more empty space. I drowned in that fear until I woke up.
Today I'm weary, and I'm anxious, and anticipating the boy's homecoming. I've been waiting since Tuesday, and the bird is flapping madly away in my chest, splattering my moods with blood that burns. I ache still from my lesson yesterday, with the Divine Ms. M reminding me of something I still manage to forget after all the time I've walked with Her, so the mad dash of gore-sticky feathers against the energy there is sharp. I tolerate it, but only because I'm a masochist, and, at times, batshit insane.
Metaphors, goddesses, dreams, emptyness....nothing more than a Book of Days, filled with interesting trivia but no substance. But it's Friday.
-M.
I wonder if he finds a bleeding, half-dead bird inside the door.
So it's Friday again. I haven't been sleeping well all week...I got my bare-minimum 8 hours one day, and the rest of the week I've been getting 6. I'm so tired I feel stoned, and yet I can't sleep most of the time. Falling asleep is a herculean act of will that takes far too long, and napping doesn't seem to happen. Wit's end with it.
Last night I dreamed someone made a witch's brew in a bath tub. Toxic, noxious concoction the colour of ashes and disappointments. 2 minutes would cleanse and clean, 3 would purify with poison...5 was fatal. I remember getting some on my arm, and it eating through a chunk of flesh, leaving black edges and an empty hole that reached bone. It was as if I was hollow. I ran, looking for something to fill the space inside me...but found nothing but more empty space. I drowned in that fear until I woke up.
Today I'm weary, and I'm anxious, and anticipating the boy's homecoming. I've been waiting since Tuesday, and the bird is flapping madly away in my chest, splattering my moods with blood that burns. I ache still from my lesson yesterday, with the Divine Ms. M reminding me of something I still manage to forget after all the time I've walked with Her, so the mad dash of gore-sticky feathers against the energy there is sharp. I tolerate it, but only because I'm a masochist, and, at times, batshit insane.
Metaphors, goddesses, dreams, emptyness....nothing more than a Book of Days, filled with interesting trivia but no substance. But it's Friday.
-M.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-11-20 10:50 am (UTC)As part of my new-found feelings of well being, I wanted to tell you that I look forward to your poetic and ruthlessly honest outlook to life in general, everyday. I also appreciate you sharing yourself and your inner workings. Thank you Morg, and much love.
ps Your beadwork is very beautiful, and I think I might be getting something for myself, from the Welder of course, for Xmas. ;)