Your gateway to endless inspiration
They are often less than a minor inconvenience.
I wipe them from my brow like sweat. Pluck them from my head like stray hairs. Toss them to the corners of my room.
The more persistent may take hold of my nerves.
I conjure imaginary fire to burn them away. Lock them and boxes and toss them from my window. Slap them from my skin like pesky bugs.
Only active movement can banish them. It's a temporary fix though. They still inch into my head waiting to pounce on me with violent scenes and repulsive images.
My thoughts aren't always my own, but my actions are.
funny how distance looks different sometimes. When I'm sitting back to the dresser, watching my desk come into focus, much closer than anything's been in weeks.
There's carpet under my feet and the hum of a box fan off to the side. Light looks different, brighter where it plays on the reflective surfaces. Throwing overlapping shadows across the room.
And I'm suddenly aware of my own skin where it stretches over my knuckles. Tingly and colder than the night air.
Someones shifted the focus, dialed it up a little. And suddenly I'm here again.