this inner circus.

[1.31.18] The moon is fucking gorgeous tonight. I sat out on the porch for a bit, staring at the skies. That was until I started freaking hacking my lungs out again, & Beloved dragged me inside. Had bronchitis last month, can’t shake the bleeding cough. It fades completely some weeks, then comes back with a vengeance.

It were enough for ghost, I suppose. He whispered his quiet & it were lovely. Calming, as ever.

[2.1.18]
OD is as slow as it were those last two years. I realise tis new & all, but c’mon. If you can’t get it running right this time ’round, what’s the point of it? (yes, i’m lacking in OD.related trust at the moment.) & am I daft, or can you not change the spacing settings on this text box thing? Single spacing lines instead of double spacing, when you hit enter; that type of thing.

[2.2.18]

& the mind cracks
beneath the onslaught
of noise within;

beating against the
forces which hold
the haunts at bay.

Shaken; words bring
forth chaos brings forth
this recycling of angst.

i’m clutching at walls,
grasping at straws,
pleading [within]

for the silent to remain
& the ghosts to recede
& the resurfacing to stop.

It shatters resolve,
& rageous protectors
retaliate & reinforce,

& it’s the same, ever;
repetitions of a past
I cannot leave behind.

^v^