My island home

The first time I gripped the sheets. It was morning, the dawn of, not a new day, but an old day, those days. It wasn't two steps forwards, one step back. Nor one step forward, two steps back. It was twice around the world, to the core, to the moon, through a black hole and back. just back. to here. to where I am now. To where I am right now writing this. The first time I gripped the sheets and held on so tight. My heavy sheets, my heavy mattress, my empty but heavy self. between the sheets rested two weeks, the downpour of the night before. I couldn't leave my bed that morning. I covered it all. stretched out. rolled. hugged. I wrapped a chain around me and it. even though I was back here that night That Night and I shared it all, we pulled each other into the spiral of pain and life. Of what was and is. So even though I was here I couldn't leave my bed, I did. Somehow I broke my back and that's why I am still here now. Why I am
where I am
right now
writing
this
.

The first time I got the tiredness I got it bad. It lasted so long and it took so much of my time away from me. I remember this woman who I love so much and who I call my Second Mother when I really mean Other Mother, like she's a horrible secret of mine who I must hide from the real world, from society, from my family. Someone who I should feel guilty for knowing and having and for knowing and having these feelings towards. Other Mother knew something was wrong, said I couldn't hide it from her.

Other Mother most likely won't be here for me anymore. Not now at least. Not today. Not when Mother says, "why do you look so sad... why won't you answer me?" "I don't know what to say" "what? ARE you sad?" She is intrusive and cruel and a stone cold statue. She isn't living because she doesn't breath. Instead she huphs, in and out, no way like fluid, not like air, not like a person should. And she doesn't talk. She knows not of language. She half gasps. Once, twice then will launch into a pre prepared attack, however strategical, however not masterminded.

This is the second time. I am tired and sad. I feel like I was simply encouraged off but different things, different people, different like mother came and changed it, made it that I'd been spat out of a mouth when she meant to strategically encourage me. I don't want to be awake. I want to be in bed. Because I got out of bed prematurely will I forever be tired. Tired. every morning, everynight. Today I wonder if that's it now. The opposite of homeward bound. I can't even say outward bound because that lies too close to home.

Like Islands in an ocean. I find one, deserted soul and desert island. A comfortable crook in the corner. In one large large so very large home. As big as the ocean. with such capacity. I am an island. I am a castle with a moat. I am barricaded. There's a wall around me. walls. walls in the ocean? walls in the ocean. The lost city of Atlantis. The city that sank into the ocean in a single day and night of missfortune. sinking, missfortune. However someone told of the legend, someone made it a legend. This is my city. I am the walls'. I am theirs. but saddly today, I am tired.