Nameless.

I'm doubtful. I don't know what to write. I don't know how to write. I don't know when to write. I don't know where to write. I don't know why I write.

[What how when where why]

I'm weary of bookmarks, page holders and more metaphors I keep scraping
to stick to my plate but all I have is my fingernails... there are no instruments I can positively use

without regrets.

Blank stare. Screen too bright. Razzleberry tea. Ten forty something. Listening to Birdy and Sia, lullabies, piano chords stirring my thoughts with a tasteless spoon. I don't know flavors, exactly, I can read of course, you can too, yet names become so corporate. They're not personable. Headphones making ears ache. Light or dark? Lightordarklightordarklightordark

I'm not sure.

But I haven't written in moonlight for ages, so maybe I'll step outside in my holey jeans and blue night shirt, barefoot and hoping that my brother doesn't hear the creak and disturb my peace.

Maybe I'll tell someone. Maybe I will stop hiding. Not now, I'm not ready now. But maybe is not an exit or a ditch that will become my burrow. It's a start,

it's somewhere.

-
Written 8/20/13 @ 10:51 PM