Feel the sting of your words, slicing open old sores
With the flick of your blade,
I'm Exposed.
Run for cover and slam the doors - seal the cracks.
Can't hide the pain from my eyes, nor yours.
You see me.
You know.
I know you know.
But we must never speak of it.

(im)balanced

Sometimes I honestly believe I can do it all. That there are no limitations, that sleep is only a luxury and not a requirement, that friends and family will understand. At first doing things for myself felt wonderfully free, independent, strong and accomplished. Now it's a sacrifice. I'm unavailable, people are questioning. I'm losing my status as 'available' to friends, family, work. So much to keep up with, not nearly enough time. Sufficiently exhausted not to care, testing my limits enough to trust my own stamina, waiting for the winter and the first snow to blow in and free me of the sheer volume of it all.

Inertia

Front to back, moving the sacks.
Lead the way and I'll show you mine too.
I've got secrets, I know the back alleys.
I'm expert with these maps.

Once there was a song about us.
It went like this;

Own the road, swim in the pond,
let the sun dry us on the warm grey rocks.
Get out and see, know where to look.
Come home soon and find your -

PLACE. (Your place. This place. My place.)

We'll roam through and look around
under the rocks and stones,
along the shore,
up in the mountains,
deep in the ocean.

We'll search and find.

I know this now.