Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Oh, That Vicious Inner Critic--Shut Up!


God, November is hard to swallow this year. The sadness floods in like a tsunami, a barrage of waves smashing grief, anger, longing, in a relentless call and response. It’s hard to stand; harder to sit. And then, there is the bitterest taste in my mouth, not just a metaphor…it’s sour like after eating too much candy. Maybe that’s it—too much Halloween candy, I’m all bitter in the mouth. Bitter and soaking wet with disappointment. Here comes the end of the year. Watch out for regret slipping into this wintery mix; slippery motherfucker that regret is…what have you accomplished this year? How about those New Year’s resolutions? You fucking loser.  When will you ever learn?

Rattle, leaves, rattle. Shake in the wind. The wind trying gently then with more vigor to shake those last little palms of hope and life loose, leaving only skeletal pointy shards of the blackest bark behind. And the snow will come…you can bet on it. More death. More cold. More isolation. Ice.

Put that in your pipe.

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