“Is is what it is.”
“That’s the business for you.”
“The process was set up this way for a reason.”
Level with it all you want. Make excuses. Lie to yourself if it helps you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with putting yourself out there as an asset, conforming your words to match what they want them to be, and making yourself a whore to the “business”.
I’ve been coming in and out of a manic mindset as of late. Mercury retrograde was in my house, Sagittarius, last month, and I’ve come out swinging. Sure, I’ve had my low points, but I’m having a productive moon cycle. I’m switched on, pumping the gas, flying high.
But then a part of me whispers that the low is waiting for me to slip.
I once said something to a friend that rang true for me at the time: “My life may be falling apart around me, but my writing has never been better.”
She wore a dress of peppermint.
Her heart was icy diamond.
Her teeth were icicles.
Purple berries adorned her hair;
bluish-white in the northern lights.
She walks upon rocks of light blue;
leading to a snow-covered path.
Baby fir trees showed the way;
pointing with hunter-green fingers.
I follow, my nerves like cracked glass.
My ego is fragile.
My limbs are heavy and numb.
Steam emanating from my mouth;
my breath freezing in the frigid air.
But still I follow;
never wanting to stray.
She leaves no prints on the fresh snow.
Her feet glide over it.
She shines like moonlight.
She radiates like nighttime beauty.
Cold spreads though my soul.
It comforts me. I know it’s her.
The snow gets deeper.
We are almost there.
Her home is in the trees;
high in the soft green needles.
I leave a trench in my wake;
an emptiness to be refilled.
The morning snow will come;
and it will be as if I wasn’t ever here.
She makes love like a princess;
loves like a white-furred fox.
Her fingertips are pleasure,
snowy magick in every touch.
Her cold spreads through me;
reaching my pit.
Her lips press to mine;
sapping my warmth.
Her body is her own;
My body is hers;
She asks for nothing.
I offer everything.
I lay on the ground, alone.
My wintery lady has gone.
There is more to this world;
but do I really want it?
Will I reach out for it;
or will I stay where I am;
lying on the frozen ground;
comfortable in the cold;
dreaming of my Yuletide Mistress.
I wasn’t gone too long, but I’m back.
I took a trip to the moral wasteland that is Disney World. It was fun, but I learned nothing from my misadventures.