Awaken Freshly

Awaken Freshly-12/29/14

Emily Sturgill

i awaken way too early,

its just a fact of my bipolar story…

and my husband he sleeps

soundly.

as i awaken freshly.

wide awake-not enough sleep-

Wrestling with the morning

fighting with the Sun

telling it to go away

to leave me alone, scattered, messy

and undone.

Sometimes, the Secret Slumber is rather Elusive,

ghost-like, slippery, sneaking away

like a thief in the night.

Child-like, I have bad dreams

that disappear in the Sunlight.

Wishing I would-somehow-some-way

normalize

instead of fight the useless fight.

smashing

passion

into a garden of delight,

a garden of twilight,

a garden of no-light, a garden of darkness, a garden

which bears no fruit, except for one single red apple,

a serpent slipped me

and it weighs on me so heavily

like the burden

of all

femininity.

so I sit and stare,

and i awaken freshly

to dreams no longer

there.

 

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Shadows sleeping

shadows sleeping

seeping breathing  branching outwards,

into a seamless scenery of lovely-lonely landscapes,

shadows sleeping quietly

staring at them

lying at my feet.

Lulling me with their

timeless lullabies.

Shadows sleeping quietly at my feet.

am i losing my mind?

am i losing time?

is it happening again?

am i receding backwards-

straight into sleeping shadows

filled with lunacy?

Picture 166 Picture 165 Picture 164 Picture 163 Picture 173

 

Obsessive Personality Traits

I grew up with two mentally ill parents.

My mother was the Manic-Depressive,

but Darling Dad was the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder-Type.

I like to think I take after them both.

I like to think somewhat, I am nothing like either one of them,

at all.

I get most of my crazy from my Mommy,

that’s just how the chips were stacked against me.

Keeping this in mind, however, I do have

certain quirks or obsessive traits just like my Father.

One, fine fault, is I can never completely let go-of the past-of

MY very own past, and the people who once were important in it-

no matter how briefly.

It makes no sense to me,

perhaps it is my Artist side, to obsess to focus exclusively,

on past acquaintanceship, friendship, or romantic entanglements.

Sometimes, i feel as though I am under,

someone’s else’s spell,

some voodoo  monster-minotaur,

vulture, preacher,saint, and sinner-

Some damned Fool!!

Like the Start of Every Journey,

in the Tarot Deck begins with Zero,

and the Major Arcana  begins with The Fool.

a Fool’s journey-

from here to there,

no-place, nowhere and everywhere in between.

I get stuck in the soft even spaces,

in the corners of my

crumbling ruins of a

very lost mind.

I get stuck on notions of persons,

I once had knew…

and to me (well yes, because i am crazy) these memories, feel like mere moments ago,

although its been 20 years or more or less,

I cannot guess.

I try to do the easy math you add-

then subtract….

the people who stay with you for the long haul,

are the ones who matter most….

still there are times,

when i become,

haunted by ghosts,

of memories,

from so very long ago-

feeling an obsessive, excessive, amour

for a single stranger or two, who I once shared

an agape, platonic, type of friendship for…

nothing makes sense anymore.

I realize I am happily married….

but occasionally my mind torments itself-

with these useless haunting’s

of Ghosts they have simply refused to

vacant my premises, pack up their night bags, leave

my mind in tact,

and go away.

And, I feel it’s definitely all one-sided,

my own fault, for obsessing in this way-

for some strange Fool, who would now,

never stop to even give me-

the time of day.