A Hard Day

It's been a hard day. The memories have begun dying and as they struggle for those last few gasps of air the convulsing sends bursts of pain through my chest. It doesn't seem like a vacation anymore, it feels wrong. It feels to me as if each of the nueropathways in my brain is connected to my nervous system and each time one of the little strands of brain tissue rips its roots from the soil of my brain I feel a flash of pain. Sometimes whole clumps are uprooted and the intensity if magnified. Randomly images force themselves into my mind, almost into my eyes they seem so vivid. Nothing odd or particularly powerful just plain views of the door to my old house or the living room but the implied power is enormous. And the gun shot like manner in which they appear, penetrating my consciousness and then exiting quickly. Before it was a big pain, which while overwhelming and humbling in its ability to physically take me to the floor and override my usually overbearing rational control, was at least finite and even cathartic. Now it is a small leak of pain. It burns hour after hour slowly and patiently. It is a soft hum that you forget is there when busy and then in your solitude it haunts you. It is calm and steady and threatening in its sense of inevitable conquering. I feel it taunting me and my patience like Grant surrounding Vicksburg. I hate it because it denies me the clarity of big pain. There is something healing about big pain, something cleansing. It burns and stings like hell but when it is gone it is like after a strong rain. This dripping brings no clarity. It does not cleanse. It is a smarter pain I guess.

Breathe I suppose. Try to cleanse it with the breath. 

Good Times