Unnamed

The release
built up tension
The sweetness
no comprehension
A rush, a flood
the sudden surge of blood
To calm a weary mind
To purge the weary soul
A release
pure and whole

Ironic or just backwards?

I've never been one to journal. It's been something I've tried several times and it's been recommended to me many times over the years as it is to almost anyone with any kind of mental illness. It's always proven a problem when it comes to consistency.
But here I am with a blog that I write on fairly regularly... What's the deal there?
I feel, for whatever reason, that there are strict rules with a journal. It has to be written in a 'Dear Diary' fashion. Or at least that's the crazy (hellloooo?!) notion in my brain. I just don't always have something to say. I've been told many times that it doesn't have to conform to any set parameters, that it's just there for whatever you want/need to get out, however it comes out.
Hello...earth to Melissa, what do you think you're doing with this blog?!
Yeah, I know, I know. But gimme a break-I am crazy remember?? I'm not expected to make sense!
If you're reading this expecting me to make any sense, you had best stop now. Take your disappointed ass somewhere else cuz you're not in it for the long haul with me here! ;)

So anywho.

I've been writing general wonderings, crazy emotional questions, random thoughts, and poetry in my hospital notebook lately and some of it is making it here on the blog and some is not because I think it's just too random or crazy or just plain doesn't make any flippin sense.
But then again, that's me in a nutshell and you love me so far....
:)

Musings

Things have changed,
  what's changed?
Everything is the same
but the same is different
Different is everything new
and everything old.
Everything old is still
here but nothing new
is gone again

My inner poet reeks, er, I mean eeks out...

  The night comes swiftly even as the light never dawned
Darkness is not quiet through the light
The end is visible though the birth not so long past

An original from yours truly that just seeped its short path through my brain.
And believe it or not, a second followed...

  So nearly painful and affronting, the reverberation felt from the faint fluttering of an eyelash or the grand gesture to stand upright
The sharp pang of an unsaid thought to the quiet yet somehow cacophonous jolt of a breath
Unassuming
Impersonal
Disparate

Resonation


  The latter being an attempt to express my torture throughout my current, prescribed, drug withdrawal.
Any thoughts or comments?