tangled wires of communication or none at all
Showers of hate, love, judgement, patronizing anamanapias; mumblings of support, dripping off of the broken lines that are sticky from old duct tape.
Weighing them down to another breaking point.
Why can't they? Why shouldn't I, Where's mine, It hurts, are the echoes that fill the white noise background.
You move and dance to catch those joyous cross-hairs clarity illumination rest laughter
hunting something that would jam the machine of whirling what ifs.
This is where I sigh, breathe and pull out my tattered "big girl panties".
Today.... this morning... now...
Just keep going