Revealing or Reveling...

What ever could be more damaging than opening my heart to an idea, an entity that would soon leave me. If I fell in love with a person, a feeling or a bond- what then could be saved of my heart. An organ beating fierce like a fist, seizing with passion at the mere sight of such a thing. Too large, with pressing urgency- take a breath. Even the discomfort of its sting has all the sweet, unencumbered resonance of a kiss to me.

To hold a child or is it holding me. I am at first set with panic, only through detachment do I concede to this. To personalize would be most damaging. I think, half present- alternative histories yet to unfold. As any of us could be so many things, feel so varied a motion- I stand, carried in the current of my own detachments. The subtleties of their admission, the delicate threads weaving- they join. Entanglements hold me. My ornate desires an art, a craft once used to cheer sorrows hold the tale of a wanton spirit. Acceptance with fond intention is but a prelude to so many things.

The point of it all...

Less sleep as I adjust to shared transportation and currently opposing schedules have been fortuitously paired with a more chaotic workplace. Miserable, scheming coworkers contend to take my position as the daytime lead, all of them at least twenty-five cents my superior. Researching data, printing transactions and filing them away replaces afternoon reading. I am behind in my novels once again, terminally distracted or professionally indisposed. Nearly finished with Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, addicted to the BBC miniseries Lost in Austen, a dozen pages at a time through several of the most amusing punctuation handbooks and other varying reference pieces. Ignoring the things that were most distressing and consuming for the last month plus, in hopes of regaining my calm. With composure secured I hope to be more useful, until then I have fizzy alcoholic beverages by the bottle and a very long straw.