Categories: bad day

poetry emphasis in poetry: the emphasis placed on a particular syllable or word as part of the rhythm of a poem or line music accent in music: the emphasis placed on a particular note as part of the rhythm of a piece of music, or a mark representing this physics force deforming a body: a force or system of forces exerted on a body and resulting in deformation or strain

I was commiserating with W that if there was a regular schedule for lovemaking in our lives, we as people would complain less. Less things would bother us. Because the emphasis would be on the love we make. The regular schedule being at least once a day… maybe in my case, twice. I would never complain. When that was the schedule, nothing really bugged me because I felt a harmony within myself and with the person I was with. Things didn’t seem so pressed because everything was centered where it mattered most: at home. The balance and harmony was there, where I would go to rest.

Lately, I’ve been feeling truly shaken off of my foundation because home, in most senses of the word as I know it, is not my sanctuary. Honestly, at this time I have none. I’ve never felt so nomadic with my center before. I carry it with me everywhere because setting it down is futile. I’ll have to pick it right back up again. Work offers me no sanctuary (that’s for damned sure). My own home is more of a prison for me if anything and anywhere else is truly transient. I’m feeling this moreso tonight because somewhere I thought I might be at the forefront of a mind… I was an afterthought. And lately, I’ve been that afterthought…. I guess cause I can be. Where am I gonna go, right? It’s days and times like this that made me wish that my decision was to just be alone and stay that way as a life decision. Because then, not having anywhere for my center or to set down my burdens and recoup would be a choice I made and thusly my own reality. Not a consequence of someone else’s decisions. So now the emphasis is on my lack of refuge. Where can I go for peace? Not even in my own mind.

And of course, Blogger made me mad enough swallow my own tongue just now because it destroyed my post when I attempted to save a few moments ago. I won’t even attempt to capture what I was writing moments ago. Nothing is adequate.



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