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marching with silent steps

February 8, 2010

Somebody said it’s like walking through pudding but not as fun as that sounds-all this snow and ice and sunshine. This blanket of ice is almost welcome as it can fucking match the maddening blizzard inside my head that will never melt revealing the grass and dirt beneath it all.

Flogging self pity is pointless. Many things are pointless but curious still. I keep picking up the same things and putting them down sneakily thinking I’ve hidden them well and lashed them down where they will suffocate and die off eventually.

Most things circling around inside my head bob up to the surface regardless of how many weights of negativity I put around them trying to make them sink and settle to the bottom to rot away to nothing.

My heart is like a hula-hoop in the grass abandoned in fall’s last hurrah of warmth to be found after all the snow melts for the winter and it can be spring again. Maybe I will pick it up and swing it around my hips, shaking to and fro.

But maybe I will spin it down my hill and let it land in someone else’s yard where I can’t trespass and pick it up again. So for now, the ice and snow are okay, hiding whatever it is that I don’t want to find me again.

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