Stormy Cannon's Blog

Thursday, June 3, 2010:

It rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone.

Dormancy stared at myself hard, with eyes filling of refusal. The amount of moments I employed the heels of my feet in kissing the living room floor aimlessly, was indeed what of superfluous manner and reasoned for no point. Clocks strike six and the morning sunlight rises from its own rest, in order to dutifully distract me from my own attempts. Not even a mere blink of an eye lid forces me light headed, the wake of my soul widening. As if needed to lift my heavy being upward and shove it into its right positioning, I write ten sentences that one woman titles "fantastic." But, I do not understand.

C's palms are so rough against my satin waist line, but I wish so passionately that he would remove them. Often, the thousands of veins just beneath my skin's exterior cringe astray from another's even light touch. It is what I cannot stand for - the connection of what all I am with someone else entirely. I feel as though I do not deserve such a beautiful thing, perhaps. As if such an alluring state is beyond my very mentioning. My placing shifts quietly from his and I escape downward the steep staircase just outside the attic in hastened tones. Into the lack of lit housed rooms, I do disappear and a while has passed so slowly before I am replaced once again.

The emotion I possess when I find that I have anonymously received a three month long upgraded membership on Writing.com is indescribable. I laugh and clap my hands together, like I have won the local lottery. My joy heightened onto peaks that no one besides myself could climb onto, others staring like I was a mythical creature gone mad with excitement. They do not understand the knowledge as to which I believe that this is the only place that could ever return to my grasp, what I have lost so carelessly: my gift: writing.