Saturday, April 17, 2010


Something inside is broken, crushed by life and its many minions called disappointment, favoritism, unfair treatment and bad luck. Spirit has bended over so much backbone has cracked and spirit walks on crutches and sumtimes a borrowed wheelchair. Irony is spirit is so broken it doesnt have spirit to heal, to walk again on upright feet. On the surface things are working, movement is fluid. Brain functions like a scratched record, pausing for hours or minutes on one bit unable to move on to the next sequence, next scene. Heart it runs but it doesnt have the steam , the power to dream, to co-ordinate with brain to create dreams and maps on how to get there. Sumthing inside is broken, enslaved spirit, scratchy mind, powerless heart. Sumthing's not right but no will to fight. Broken.

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