Sick of running

Sick of running-

Emily H. Sturgill

May 4, 2015

So sick and tired of running-running away from my feelings/running away from my lover/running away from my best friend/

So sick of running away from this man who im in love with/Its been almost fifteen years now/cannot deny/the more i love/

the higher i fly.

im sick of running.

i am done with the rewind process.

i blink. i cry. i open my eyes.

suddenly stuck back on the rewind.

and its there again. im the misfit. i am only 18. i am running away again.

i run away from my parents home again and again repeatedly.

i run away from the man who loves me-

because of this fear-this phobia-the things i do not dare-to face myself.

So sick and tired of running-running away from my feelings/running away from my lover/running away from my best friend/

So sick of running away from this man who im in love with/Its been almost fifteen years now/cannot deny/the more i love/

the higher i fly.

I am so deeply sorry for my stubborn refusal/to face myself/in a mirror.

I am so sick of running away/deep down/somewhere/inside/i am scared/so i hide./terrified/

So sick and tired of running-running away from my feelings/running away from my lover/running away from my best friend/

So sick of running away from this man who im in love with/Its been almost fifteen years now/cannot deny/the more i love/

the higher i fly.

I am sick of running./i want to just stay home with you/i want to stay/always/near you./im scared/i will lose you./

I cannot promise/that this fear/won’t overcome me/again./but im attempting/to face my demons./to slay them./

So sick and tired of running-running away from my feelings/running away from my lover/running away from my best friend/

So sick of running away from this man who im in love with/Its been almost fifteen years now/cannot deny/the more i love/

the higher i fly.

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

 

Stuck on the serene

I’m stuck on the serene.
I am a fly caught by the sky of stars,
onto your cars dashboard’s glass-
smashing fast
beneath windshield wipers cast of silver.

the past is a postcard memory.
a momentary glismpe over my shoulder,
and a 35 cent postage stamp.

there is so much love here.
it covers me, endlessly.
until i breakout like an allergy.
feeling the rash of never belonging/nor…
being worthy of all the love
he sends to me.

I’m a broken down rabbit earred TV screen.
stuck on static and white noise.
i am broken into too many
ancient places
to be fixed by your hi-fi definations.

I am the broken down pay-phone,
in the mental ward which only takes
quaters, and everybody is fresh out,
sadly giving me longing looks of too much pain.

I am the peeling paint job
on the oldest wooden house
abandoned ob our block
windows nailed shut
front door busted into
filled with the evils of crime, rodents of luck and opportunistic stray cats.

I am the fever which makes you sweat.
my heat intensifies
under a heating blanket, some fiction
and a bodybag of a corpse filled to the brim:
with lies.
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