BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

a very grey day ....

Yes, it's grey outside, and (as pretty damn much always is the case) it's just as grey inside. I am really very tired. I'm sure part of this is due to having to be up and functioning during those hours that my body prefers to sleep. The little panic attack I had last night (oh, and today too ... dealing with Excel manged to bring up a blast of "bookkeeping phobia" ... bleh) at least makes me think that the Effexor is out of my system. Not happy about this crap. Not happy AT ALL. I had another "the bottom falling away" moment last night when I realized that school does not equall paycheck, and that we're ultimately in as bad shape as ever ... and that we could STILL lose everything before I get hired. Hey, it sucks being me.

However, a prett decent poem seems to have percolated up from all this crap ... and I strongly suggest that you CLICK ON THE LJ-CUT THING that I've started to use to cut down on the line count on these posts. Hey, I'm trying to be NICE here! Want more ugly emotional hemorrhaging? The rest of this stuff is at ... the Archive of my agonies (or something like that).

Visit the BTRIPP home page!

                    MIRRORS OBSCURED TO VISION

                    broken schedules
                    dashed intents
                    all we'd do
                    is blocked by the outside
                    all our meaning
                    crushed by mundane force
                    into scattered bits,
                    wind-blown fragments

                    once the veil of dusk removes
                    what is left us?
                    a true exhaustion,
                    legitimate pain,
                    and the prompt return
                    of all that fear?
                    strapped upon this wheel
                    we have no answers

                    war-torn, civilized,
                    we muddle through
                    grasping what we can
                    from what is left us
                    huddled deeply down
                    against the blast
                    waiting for the time
                    when things might not be hard

                    always darkness hovers
                    just outside the cone of sight,
                    a shadow flitting
                    at the extremes,
                    a presence looming
                    somehow behind, around,
                    beyond focus, identification,
                    and the ability to deal

                    so much is lost here,
                    and we, too, go missing ...
                    the lines of our location
                    don't seem to intersect
                    for coordinated states;
                    the place within is dusty,
                    as though long empty
                    abandoned to its fate

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

visit the BTRIPP home page


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