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an old fashioned blackberry

weird as it sounds when my thoughts wield their all mighty hold cast inflictions twist meaning and imply the truth of whats told I resorted to reason which seems to be a contradiction of terms of engagement with the enemy and looked for alternative turns loops of neuronal contraptions needed to be tackled and changed challenged and embraced until I thought they had been rearranged its easy to see the set up for failure in endless loops of my mind nothing was different however and demonic vultures still dined on scraps of delusion and aberrations of what should be reason self inflicted doubts never ceased to cast a spell of high treason with me the traitor perpetrator victim and foe smack in the middle propaganda and fake news on stage magnifying mere tarradiddle in false belief that I would manage to win such an unequal battle but the rational bogles sounded a crescendo of my own death rattle there was no escape from destruction and permanent incarceration breaking out of soul’s prison required a completely novel narration with belligerence out of the question and answers not anyway near in anger anxiety depression there must be reprieve from all that fear at first there was no mileage in surrender but I needed a sanctuary found myself in carefree childhood in a hedge of abundant blackberry not easy when you compete with others who took the fruit by the street and the only ones left are the red ones not even close to being sweet but this was a mind game self hypnosis affair of emotions over matter a dream world to soothe reality an attempt to make everything better once I engaged I could feel the sun on my shoulders or rain on my back parched or soaked but caught in a dream state gave myself some slack thorns and endorphins entered the moment and the windbreak did open fantastic creations danced with all sorts of emotions previously broken bleeding scratches on my hands went deeper inside when compared to the rumination and dire doubts maybe I could succeed once I dared the juice on my fingers ran down my arms and tattooed all that pleasure like ink from a quill featherlight from letting go and could see a treasure a day in the kitchen with Mom and the kids making pastries and parfait the joy of stealing dough and dipping the tongue into the jam on the tray mixed with whipped cream or cinnamon custard as desert or main course manna from heaven natural jelly’s joy ambrosia straight from the source even clearing the table and washing the dishes hold magnificent memories of kind times innocence and marvel straight from Eden and paradise trees I learnt to take refuge from overthinking now resort to such imagination overcome dissolution and frustration and enlist more emotional stimulation at times I am the blackberry and scratch my logic into firm submission even spikes give me hope love kindness compassion and realigned vision 18th August 2020

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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