Have you ever felt your entire body was turned inside out? I am sure you have. When disappointment, your feelings saw raw, sting as open air touches your core, holding your heart in your hand.
It doesn’t have to be a relationship between a man and women or other human beings, a loved one, a death, it can be just you, at war with your inner being.
I write so dark, it seems like all I read, everyone is dancing in fields of flowers and as they stop writing, they are all alone with the feeling in thoughts.
I work very hard to grasp the at the very few times of oneness, that is the only thing lately I know. Transitioning from my youth, my powerful existence it was, is growing into my later years unseemingly alone.
Seems like all the fanfare is leaving the adventure of life, that I will for. So I do things myself, sole alone. I should be thankful for the will I have to entertain these thoughts, but sharing them with someone is long beyond my grasp.
A brief aquatint I once encountered, somewhat of a writer, wrote a piece on aging how gracefully he embraces it. I don’t believe it is true. He struggled most his life with oneness and is scrambling at his age to find someone to share his life with. That can’t be the real thing, choosing a person just for the sake of it all, with an unknowingness to share the rest of his days, believing his life will be complete, after all.
I am going to try to make the inside out feeling, so raw about this feeling of growing old, turning it around alone, as I got here on my own.
The Bitchen Pheonix
(Getting tired of rising, but watch me I will)