and life is
and stress becomes important
and family
and work
and my words have left,...
and my emotions with no where to go look
look for my monster
my monster, my savior during these times.
but then there is
life
and stress
and family
so even my monster can not thrive.
the words trapped
the body shuts down
and I try
and I work
and I family
and I stress
but I don't write!
so my monster wants to live and wants to save me,
but there is no time
no hope
only cycle
work, family, stress
family, stress, work
stress, work, family
so debilitating there is no room for
no room for words
no room for monsters
no room for sharing feelings.
no feelings is where my monster thrives
and yet it has only air to breath, but no food to eat.
and the family needs food
and the work needs my intellect
and the stress needs nothing.
nothing is what I have written in too long.
I long for my words or my monsters to save me.
I hope my words come back,
I miss them terribly so,
This must be what a mom felt in the 1800's when her 15 yr old boy went west to make his fortune.
She saw innocence and love and hope and joy, ride out with the sunset, never knowing really if she would ever see him again.
