Still dark out but the rain has stopped. Woke with anxiety, my old friend. We all have something; mine's the snake of doubt paired with global catastrophe. It runs underneath the Hollywood version, after Dorothy gets to Oz. It's the haunted forest where the trees throw their apples at you. It's creaks and screams in the night. It's fangs. It's blood on the floor.
2 comments:
Love this post! Such beautiful writing!
Anxiety for me feels like a bad first marriage. I divorced him a couple years ago, and I am afraid he will come back into my life one day.
Yeah, up the back stairway, standing over you when you sleep. Yettccchh.
Post a Comment