Brain Busy

Emotionally rolling on the coaster of sobriety has made me painstakingly aware of the monotonous tiredness I so desperately used to run away from. Consistency uncomfortable to the touch like a child's razor sharp fingernails digging into flesh, I find it funny the lack of pressure sitting on my chest.

I'm not broken,

I'm layered

And uneven

And the tissues of my soul are complex.

The earth beneath my feet crumbles

I fall.

But

the substance

holding me

together

Refuses to shatter.

Raptured in contentedness,

I fall to my hands and knees

And dry heave tears of

Relief.

The world within no longer a chasm,

Creates a perspective that

Cradles the world on the out.

The tides are changing

And as dreamlike as it feels

The power is shifting,

No longer is the majority

Vacuumed in the wormhole

Of distraction because

The past year and some months

Has rendered the semantics

Of society irrelevant.