what remains

a soft crackling sound
the beginnings of a break
with all that is past
and what remains is shattered
like this weary artist’s soul…

[9:22 AM]
There are worse things than insomnia.

So, after I wrote the last piece, I remained away from the bed I share with Ayeka until nearly half-past three, when I decided that I needed to try again, even if I wasn’t tired. Sleep evaded me until four, and then I woke at ten-of five when my alarm went off. Deciding that I needed at least another few minutes, I moved into the study, cleared off the day bed, and crawled in for another twenty minute cat-nap.

And woke up at seven. Great. Late for my only workday this week, I got out of bed…. and stepped on one of my pieces. The only way I knew this was the case was the fact that I heard the plastics of the floating frame crack under my weight. (And yes, even after losing thirty pounds, I’m still sufficiently heavy to break two sheets of plastic.)

Ayeka’s just informed me that the piece itself seems to be alright – she checked from the back and it doesn’t look like the paper tore. (The piece in question is ‘babbling brook’, the one that was published in haigaOnline a few years back, which had been hanging in my study until we put up some of our purchased collection in there instead.) It just needs a new frame… but it’s also kind of symbolic of how i feel about my art lately… how I feel about everything. It’s just kind of blah, and I don’t feel at all like anything….

I mean, you know it’s a bad day when I’m more enthusiastic about my novels than I am about my poetry or painting. 🙁

Wish I could shake out of it…