Carousel by Kurama Phoenix on DeviantArt. Click image for more information.
Suggested audio: To The Shock Of Miss Louise by Thomas Newman
A long chat with my mother and her sister about various family incidents triggered me to note this down as I sat in my aunt’s conservatory. It was November and I was feeling positive about learning how to try and move forward from bad energy stored since childhood.
Retrospective introspection is no longer valid. Years of this, trying that and drugs for the other. Once way past adulthood, giving yourself a flogging for ghosts of time that ought to be forgotten only serves to keep old wounds weeping crimson tears. An eternal victim of the self trapped on a decaying carousel, circling up and down on tired horses with glazed over eyes.
Whoever or whatever is turning that carousel’s crank needs to be psychologically obliterated. Those horses will soon grind to a rusty halt enabling you to clamber off after years of being in a daze.
Watch the flames of spontaneous equine combustion consuming that carousel of despair. It’s ashes will blow to nowhere as you ponder the theory of self care.
Did all those sessions of dizzying psychotherapy REALLY help? In short, yes. They helped unravel and understand, as harmful as opening up old graves seemed to feel. Raw emotions and feelings vented then recorded on repetitive one-to-ten scales.
Old memories can be like modelling clay in your hands. Did you create a monstrous form or fuck it, you’re a unicorn? Most likely the first. Memories are unreliable, patchy and erratic. Why, where and when never truly known so what you thought was, well, it probably wasn’t.
Mental destruction from whoever or whatever should be treated like hearing a shotgun firing off. Pellets of repulsive behaviour spraying everywhere because it doesn’t care. Shooting off it’s atrocities without an actual target. The shotgun has the problem, it’s ammunition deteriorated and defective.
You’re off that endless impetuous rotation. The shotgun had the blues. You’re no longer lost in the forest, being caught on nagging branches.
You need to find your CTRL ALT DEL keys, press them in confident but gentle order and reset your perceptions.
Tears of hope begin to well.
© Copyright: Sharon Lawson™