I finally see the sun through the forest.
Slivers of light make their way through the dense
packing of the trees.
A clearing is in the distance.
But—there seems to be a magnetic force around me.
That’s what it is right?
That’s why can’t I step towards the clearing.
… what else could be preventing me from freedom?
Photo captured by me in Fort Greene Park, Brooklyn
It’s June 6th;
the first night I hear sounds of summer.
Crickets chirp outside as I try to sleep
but my mind is racing.
Photo captured by me, NYC.
Sadness is my friend, my foe.
Sometimes I can sit with it and let it be.
Other times it bubbles to the surface and boils over,
leaving a mess in its wake.
I let myself be consumed by it,
rather than fighting the urge to control it.
Photo taken by me at Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, NY.
Been spending time in the shadow as of late.
Not sure what forces are at play,
but there’s been a shift somewhere, something is unsettled.
It was thick and opaque like fog rolling in overnight.
A silent killer, eating me away inside;
I didn’t even realize –
My heart was hardening.
Mind always racing, pacing, thinking.
A paralyzing anxiety.
Shrouded in darkness, the overbearing weight of negativity
creeping in like the fog that rolls in overnight.
A silent killer,
eating at me from the inside.
In no time,
I got lost in the dense, opaqueness
All the thoughts in my mind,
A wolf in sheep’s clothing,
that’s what he was.
Every now and then you questioned his sincerity,
claiming to be soft and tender like the sheep,
yet he stepped on you with paws,
encased talons ripped your heart to shreds.
When aggravated or displeased,
he gnarled like an angry wolf,
ready to pounce;
willing to taste your blood on his tongue.
Not simply a malcontent,
a completely different animal.
You reached for him.
In a moment’s notice,
pulled off his cloak,
unsheathed his identity.
He recoiled in cowardice,
He wanted to disappear.
Shot by me at Queens County Farm.
via Daily Prompt: Disappear
Seems to be more than just a feeling, a lifestyle.
Pic taken by me on Fulton Street by South Street Seaport, NYC.
Bombarded by those thoughts,
a war zone inside my head.
Bombs go off,
stand tall like a soldier;
I want to fall down and cry.