*Gif of Jon Stewart Screaming OH NOOOOOOOOOO!*

by Bead

Summary:

*screams and hits tree with stick*

I lost a poem to this stupid neurological whatsis. I wrote this stream of consciousness hoping to you know.....sort of do an anti-Coleridge myself and remember the poem. In short, I was working on a poem after thinking I was sort of coming out of a bad pain flare...but apparently it was a flare boomerang, and hit me hard right in the middle of making my way down the hall to actually start writing.

Mr. Bead had me down and comfortable as possible and we agreed that I needed extra pain meds.

Remembered the poem as I slipped the tincture under my tongue and ooh nooooooo.

Notes:

Look, this is as much as I can remember of what I was thinking, and I'm leaving it as raw and rough or half-polished phrases.

Thank you for reading. <3

I did it again.
There were words swirling like the leaves I want to catch and blow back warm and green between my hands sending them back home because, no no, just because it's March 200th, y'all don't give up NOW.
There were words swirling about watching the slow and beautiful death of the garden I haven't been able to tend or enjoy...at all.
The hothouse flower stuck inside.
There were words about the struggle to let go. Let summer go this year, though the ebb of green warning us if we'd listen that Winter and all its' ills that IS coming with a tsunami of statistics no one ever ever ever wanted overhead.
Strips of green getting ripped from someone's life, leaving behind pain, freezing cold and grief and our endless strife.

I had words swirling that about letting go means we really get to see how healthy that tree is...and we can see around us more clearly.
Those clear skies will happen just in time to make a terrifyingly important decision, The skies will be clear but around us all bare.
Empty but heavy, like we feel. The pull, the yearn to lie dormant.
And I had hell of a pivot oooh to a little spot of light.

It's better than cursing the darkness they say.

My sight's not so good these days but I can see
and remember enough that I wish I'd written it down or said it aloud BEFORE I had that roaring tabula-razing myoclonus storm.
It was one that felt good.
That's what happens when you stare out the windows shaking listening to Common and Legend and then a little Lin and then dear god, oh crap, I went and did it again.
There were words swirling like the leaves I want to catch and blow back warm and green between my hands sending, no no, just because it's March 200th, y'all don't give up NOW. Standing empty and hazy and heavy. I feel.
And I had hell of a pivot oooh, it was good to swap it all'round

make it a little spot of light.

.

It's better than cursing.

My sight's not so good these days but I can see
wish I'd written it down or said aloud BEFORE tablula raza-ing.

It was one that felt good.

That's what happens when you stare out the windows, shaking

Listening to Common and Legend and Lin, not thinking ahead

words tripping around mental tongue and fingers,

writin' old school in my head

'cause I forget

short term thoughts will not linger

just drop stone dead.

Taken no matter what I do.

The illness jars the brain and the THC pulls the chain.....

and something that felt good goes down the drain.

Fuck pain.

I lost a poem

Again.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 6 of Bead's Original Poems & Such.