Maya Angelou (I think?) said that every storm runs out of rain.
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Maya Angelou (I think?) said that every storm runs out of rain.
I was not prepared for this
Stage of life I find myself in
Things were improving with years
Until they weren’t
And my shadow form has started punching down
In ways I could never see coming
After shoving me into the ring
The longer I seal my lips
The more sour it becomes
This metallic silence
…
Chasing more sunsets
forward, forward, ever on:
both the world and he
It’s not really wanting to die so much as wanting to disappear.
Dying does take care of that, but maybe there’s other ways.
Today was a little clearer than usual.
I turn your chair to face me
Press you into the back
Collapse onto you
In a trusting embrace
Breathing deeply, your cotton shirt
Feels so soft against my cheek
Smelling of safe comfort
And stable familiarity
…
Today the nervous vibrations
Slow a little
Calm a little
…
Morning brought no change;
with burning scents on the wind
routine drives forward
The haunting persists:
I carry on ignoring
its calls for reset
(Follow up to Senryū 2025.03.27)
Another sleep comes soon
hoping morning brings waking
changed or not at all
(Followed by Senryū 2025.03.28 #1, #2)
It just occurred to me today that tiredness and sadness feel (almost???) identical to me.