then again, maybe not

I should be sleeping,
Well, that was true when I wrote this, but not now that it is published.
Then again, perhaps I should be sleeping now too.
At some point, I really should sleep.
Maybe tomorrow.

It would be grand to be dreaming,
Of the mountains or the past or the future or anything with my eyes closed.
Then again, I should be careful what I wish for.
At some point, the nightmares might creep,
To my sorrow.

I should be sleeping,
But instead I’m scheduling additional posts for this week to be shared.
Then again, words are often my salvation.
At some point, I might hit upon a truth seep.
Maybe tomorrow.

pills are not the answer

I had a brief (online) conversation with friend of the Kingdom, Steph, today.  And, sadly, while doing okay, she’s not at her very best.  If you aren’t familiar with Steph, she is a wonderful creative who used to blog before the trolls of the ‘sphere got to her, but you can still find some of her writing here and here, and she was a major part of the Save the Kingdom series as well.

She sent me the following to share with all of you:

I sit in line on an ugly chair
As people in shirts of graded colour
With badges and lanyards and keys
Dispense feelings in little plastic cups
Through a hole in the wall.

My turn
“How are you today?” she asks
I say I am sad and something is missing
“Sad? We have a pill for that!”
No, I sigh, that won’t help me.
“Yes it will” she says
She claims it will make me sleep,
Sleep a long, long time,
So I don’t have to feel the sadness.

She doesn’t understand
when I wake up the sadness will still be here
You see, what I need, more than anything
Is to be held
To be held tight and close,
And there is no pill for that.

If you are friends with Steph as well, send her a little note of love, and some virtual hugs as well.  It isn’t much, I know, but it is still something.

clarity for her path

Considering how far she has pushed herself beyond the limits she’d known previously, and that she had come through the ambush with her life, something two of their force couldn’t also say, the sorceress was very pleased to wake cold, aching, and exhausted on the floor of her study.  Finding her feet, a smile testing her lips despite the pain that wracked her body and mind with every movement, she carefully made her way down the hall to her quarters where she nestled deep within the soft covers in search of restorative sleep.

The time she had spent unconscious on her study floor had been productive in allowing her body time to start its recuperation, but had done little to give her the depth and scope of the rest she actually needed.  Her vision swam away from her as she clumsily stumbled and fumbled towards the land of dreams.  Warm color reached for her and she slipped comfortably into its embrace.

Intangibles swirled around her, floating in drifts, and she made no attempt to understand the loving caress of the visions.  She had learned in her training, long ago, that not only was it futile to attempt to control dreams, but trying to could keep her from relaxing deeply enough for her body to repair itself and her magically well to refill.  So, the images splashed on and she drank them in as they came.  Some were terrifying and others were uplifting and she took them all in stride.

The dragon appeared prominently in splotches of red, only to be replaced by the wizard dripping in yellow, and then the black etchings of the dead.  Behind them all the warmth of orange and purple pulsed in time to her heart and eventually those two colors devoured the rest until all her mind hummed in vibrant hues of green.  The tall grasses of the river’s fields swayed in a gentle breeze running down from the mountain passes above.  It was beautiful and serene and the sorceress’s mind finally relaxed to the point it needed.

Then a fire sparked by a lightning strike on the highest peak, turned to an inferno by the previously gentle breeze, leapt from the mountains to eat of the lush grasses, and she felt the fire within her soul burn anew.  Recharged, her eyes opened wide and she sat upright in her bed.

She knew it was foolish to take meaning from her dreams, but she knew she had received a glimpse of truth and clarity.  Fire was her salvation.  Closing her eyes, she settled back into sleep, knowing she would need to be fully rested for her road ahead, to go call upon the dragon again.


I’m losing my mind.
It may already be gone:
The gears halted in their grind,
All thoughts swallowed in an endless yawn…

Have you seen them?
Those flashes of movement…
There, so clear, then vanished in the dim,
Were they real or, sanity slipping, imagination sent?

I’m caught off-guard,
By these fleeting glimpses,
Of possibilities crashing hard,
Into my truths of castaway chances.

Would you accept them?
Having seen them over and over,
As they race through vision’s outer rim…
The hallucinations demand your embrace, your favor.

I’m not quite ready,
In my paranoid wandering,
Even if my keel seems strong and steady,
To relinquish control to the wind’s meandering.

Can you see my crazy?
Careful, it crawls under skin…
Contagious, spreading, it very well may be,
Preying on your fears, your doubts, and your sin.

I’m sure insomnia is the culprit:
Attacking and degrading my wiring.
Yet these things I’ve seen hold weight and grit.
They cannot be unseen, no matter the time or trying.

What would you do?
Should you constantly see,
Objects, light, movement, flashes all untrue…
Existing in sight, but only there and completely reality free.


I finished off my visit with The SisterWives this week with a poetic duet with the one and only Hasty. It’s a follow up to the Insomnia post from yesterday and it is, in my opinion, one of the best poetic endeavors I’ve been a part of. Pop on over and give it a read.

The SisterWives

This week the Sisterwives were honored to have Matticus guest post twice.  The first post was about the perception of cowardice and the second was about insomnia.  Today I have an extra surprise for the SisterWives community; a poetic duet titled Insomnia written by Matticus and I.

399px-Face_of_an_old_clockWritten by Matticus and Hastywords

Tip-toeing through mind’s shadows,

Desperate to avoid the dangling drop,

And tightening noose of the gallows:

The dark memories that refuse to stop.


Thoughts, like ants, cover every surface

The walls and ceilings alive with rumors

A bizarrely unorganized mental circus

Insomnia, playing its endless maneuvers


To toss and battle or turn and retreat,

There is too much chaotic crawling to ignore,

Even flight would require a rising beat,

Indecisiveness furthers the internal war.


Yesterday visits needlessly unresolved

Twisting the debris inside my mind

Into this raging storm, anxiety evolved

Now hastier than the tick…

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