Welcome to the seventeenth #SatSunTails micro fiction competition.
Be warned – the prompts aren’t easy, but that’s so you can write to the best of your ability.
If you haven’t had a go before at this writing challenge, then please don’t hesitate to try this weekend.
There are more letters cluttering my floor. It’s better to get things out even if you can’t get any answers. It’s not fair to have things unexplained and left with questions, but if you can’t have the conversation to put your mind at ease and help you to move on, the only thing you can do is get it out.
I’m getting it all out as much as I can, but there seems to be far more than I would ever have thought possible. My days have become sort of vague. Everything is monotonous and the same.
There’s also this terrible vacant, distant thing going on with my head. I don’t feel as if I’m all here most of the time. Days are simply a living distraction where I forget what I’m doing or I do things without any reason. It’s awful. It’s like dissolving.
And I don’t like it one bit.
Sometimes I can only bring you poetry where thoughts would otherwise lie like memories inked upon the page. Sometimes this poetry tells you all that you need to know and sometimes it unrolls like smoke as you read and reread.
I can’t tell you what kind of poetry this piece will be. I only know that I have written it and that it is unedited, uncut, unmuddied by further thought. It is as it was written. It is as it was first thought.
Writing it helps. Releasing it sets it free.
A few weeks back, I showed you a piece of poetry that I’d recently written in the post 6 Weeks Ago…
I’ve been writing a lot of poetry recently around the same sort of subject. It’s not something I do consciously, but it always helps when I have a problem or a trouble that I can’t work through and I need to get out. Unfortunately, I can never seem to get out what I want to say verbally. It only seems to show itself in rhymes and such.
So here it is.
Here are my feelings pulled into words on a page, encased in rhythm and rhyme, twisted into something less complex and confused than half sentences and unfinished words. This is my vulnerability behind the veil. This is my unspoken sensitivity.
This is my honesty.
