unbornbloom

New skin. All is good. I perch on a pile of down, mountain high, and watch all around me, for just a moment. I am the tourniquet queen. The feeling left over after stitches disolve and your skin is pink.
few truly appreciate this. But I have power. I smile. I know the importance of my role and my pause ends. Down from the perch, back to walking about, among all the unknowing- stomping on butterflyed flesh, I travel this plane.

***

Things, they are crazy. It's as if someone droped a missle head loaded with toxic busy. Now busyness, its scattered all over and I scarcly know where to begin, snatching at the tail end of my tasks.
I am suddenly..extensively, glad I dont have to deal with a relationship right now. for the love of god, id be ripping out my hair at one more duty...