...dear diary, in a lethal turn of events, the weight of the world has shifted from the tectonic plates and found a new home within my bones. The blue of the day sky gave in to the dark of this endless night that is overrun by these nightmares and dying stars crash landing.
...unfiltered noise is drifting over the altars of this unbearable season and my human has been nailed on a lifestyle cross and I seem to have run out of the words to ask for a drop of water.
...in a hastened pace, I have been to places my anxiety lied there were safer than here and in return, I keep watering these expectations and rearing disappointments at the cost of regrets. I hate how lessons take their time to integrate with my blinded soul.
...then I follow it up with questioning everything, especially myself and the war within picks up from where it left off. Nights like this one turn into these wishful longings for everything that has me anchored at the floor of the ocean to be dissolved by my unseen tears.
...the goddess I embody has been brought to her knees and while she's here she might as well lie by the shrines of her setback and rest. And while she rests, my poet will be attending to the wounds she has folded with her painful smiles.
...and from her unspoken tales, the fruits of Songs of Solomon are hanging low and the hymns of gratitude are dancing with David in Psalms. And the residue of animated screams of her younger self while playing shepherd when she was unaware of the hardships that come with being alive.
...her ego has often asked the gods to take away her ability to draw using prose but they must have known that it would be her only way to convey what has been hurriedly buried here... for me to own the lie that I can heal myself.
...and although I might be able to spill what ails me, words still are so inadequate when it comes to expressing some things. Yet, these words are all I have and so wield them I must.
...the thought of giving up comes and goes but the defiant child of my favourite girl won't stop demanding better of me. Every time I find myself encouraging the idea of escaping the world or this feed, I want to remind myself of the space in between my grey skies.
see you soon.
...wambuku w.