Grumpy

It's 7:00 pm on a Wednesday evening and I am grumpy.  I've had a mild migraine for the better part of the day.  I woke up grumpy but I grumbled along as best as I could.  Then I was aggravated by the stupidity of people.  I should just let things go, not give over to every angry impulse but I didn't win out on that count. Instead I ate comfort food to stuff down my feelings.  Yes, I am quite aware of my food issues.  I haven't been sticking to my food restrictions either which may explain some of the grumpiness and overall yucky feeling. The only time I feel almost normal is when I have nothing in my system.  Being empty helps give my system a break. I may do that tomorrow. It will help. Where was I?  Oh yes, being grumpy.  So I tried writing some poetry while I was at lunch but that didn't really amount to much.  I'll include it in this entry just to share the first draft of a peom/poem. [I misspelled poem and liked the way it looked so I held onto it.]  Okay, right so moving on.  Despite the warmed weather, I'm still feeling cold. Clammy cold.  Must be the migraine.

Okay so the poem that I wrote this afternoon with just a few minor changes:

Thunder-Struck Silence at a Quarter to One

A reluctant start to this grey day
damp wind caresses skin promising
Spring sun, waking up a need/want
hunger with an open voracious mouth,
all-consuming, to be filled up to the brim
with some-thing/some-one of substance
to fill up the blank page
to fill up the darkness
to be reminded of days that held
hopeful dreams in bright neon colors.
Light reflects off the wet bricks
on a building across the street
a folded piece of paper opens
and closes, opens and closes
with each gust of air. We are
actors without a play or a part.
Metal beads scrapes across
the window pane, reflections
captures our attention, wander past
our thoughts toward higher ground
where we will not drown.  Heaven
is a sometimes promise to the weary
heart. We dare not shout into Winter's
dark. A star in the corner of a page is
a reminder to come back. We are asleep
with our eyes wide shut. I am not listening.
Need/want hunger suffocates. A life
without pain is a life without language.
Turn down the music there are people
lying. Turn down the covers, these
are the moments to despair.  Fold us
along our edges and press down tight.
                                                      -03.11.15

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