like fine dust

like fine dust
feeding the cat and filling a water glass
-i am shocked that suddenly my precious solitude
–feels dead and empty
—i’ve lived in this orgasmic silence
—-so long that it has grown with every split inch of hair i’ve cut
—–and instantly it is no longer vibrant and productive
——but gross like fine dust settling in my pores


The tension of being a solitary girl, again.  There was someone I wanted to share my deepest space with way back then.  I should just write a damn book on that year.  Of course, I practically did and it now goes by the old manuscript tag here.

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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