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reclaiming what's mine

Just over two years ago, a large part of my life - and what I thought was my future - was utterly destroyed.  It was half my fault, but I don't think things could have ever played out differently.  Since then I've been a member of the walking depressed:  I carry on, bury myself in work, find ways to deal with the next batch of problems (because they do just keep coming), and maintain a superficially-intact personal life. 

I knew it would get better eventually.  And it's getting there, finally, but there's still a great gaping hole where that life was, and I need those things back; I can find nothing to go in their place.

I've never found a good way to describe that life to outsiders without sounding a bit ridiculous.  Which is ironic, since writing makes up a large part of it.  An ill-trained, chi-laden confusion of martial arts makes up most of the rest.  There was to be a free school, to study it and find out what it could be.  I would gladly have given my life to that idea, and the person who'd shared it with me.  Tried to.

The writing will return in time, and for now I can still wait.  There have been long dry spells before, long enough for skills to atrophy.  But if it weren't for work leaving me so computer-tired most days, and the press of other people and problems, I think I would be writing again.  I know it will need a push, but I am no longer concerned that it might be gone for good.

Meanwhile, I will post a poem.  The poem.  The one that was called "too creepy" in a polite hand-written rejection letter from a very small publication.  The one that is written on the front of my practice shield.  It was there at the beginning of that wild, doomed trip, and it will be there for whatever comes next.



Little round sausages filled with sun-warmed blood,
Sweet and tangy,
Teasing the skin on the outside, soft, wrinkling slightly at my touch,
I bite without hesitation, and you explode.
You were poison once;
You were pariah, long, long ago.
But we found your master, someone to contain you,
Someone to tame you,
And now you twine obediently up my stalk,
Living in my world, because I made you.
Living where the air is harsh
On your tender skin, your brittle limbs,
Your palms raised to the fading light.
Tonight's frost brings your certain death,
And I take from you all that I can,
Hurriedly harvesting your organs while the body still breathes.
This is all you will know of love.





To any who are reading this and were hoping for different on their friends list, understand that I won't be at all offended if you un-friend, for any reason.

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Friending welcome, but lurking is fine too.

Constructive criticism is also welcome - whatever it is, trust me, I've heard worse.

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