Sunday, September 20, 2009

Day 111 tears, living and addictions


The tears puddle

out of nowhere

do they fall from bliss or to bliss?

The release is imcomplete

though comforting.


The tears season

our tasteless lives and

we find a flavor like

no other.

The taste is fulfilling

yet lacking.


The tears trace

the cheek and spot

the shirt

finding a moment's saturated

pleasure.

They dry up quickly

and are forgotten till

the next emotional flood.


Like an addict

in withdrawal

I get shaky.

Nauseous.

I seek a hit.

A high.

It's nothing I can

buy at the pharmacy.

Nor the street corner.

The only fix is

within my creative soul.

Artfully.

A blob of cerulean.

A drop of sienna.

A shapeless wonder.

I seek and find

a moment's satisfaction.

Brief but enough.

1 comment:

tala1947 said...

I would like to share this with a fellow crafter whose husband has some serious health issues.
May I cut and paste it to send to her.