Machinations.

A lazy Saturday morning is just what the doctor ordered. I know, there is work to be done.Phone calls to be made, groceries to be bought, stuff to be cleaned. I know, I bloody well do. But those amazing extra hours of sleep in the bright hours of first sunrise is a placebo for all woes.

But wake up, I must. The ritual of weekendification mandates 2 hot cups of ginger laced tea which equals a lot of pleasures that I am yet to discover. Temporary amnesia calming all my real world worries, the sound of music from the internets of the world pipes into my living room and my head is buried in a particularly loved magazine. Reading from paper is a bit rare these days. 

Benighted. The strains of this dark and melancholic music, whilst serenading, also prove to be a bit like a spell. I lift my head out of the magazine long enough to notice the weather playing puppet to the sounds. Dark cloud are being towed into view. Winds pick up. Cheery dancy sunlight is replaced by a pall of gloom. My mind is awake enough to realize. A affirming smile and I raise my cup of the spiced aromatic potion. A more perfect setting, to help scramble away at life's troubles, cannot be found. On with the reading then.........

In my time of need.......

In this self imposed seclusion,

Comprehend the shape of your thoughts.

Silence, to soothe your fevered brow

The golden disease that terrifies.

Figurines that lunge and grab,

The proverbial throat.

The comatose suddenness of it all.

Divine the meaning of all that you are,

And stare into your perception of self.

Cheery at time and dark otherwise.

On this mental landscape

A million myriad paths

All seemingly equal and inviting.

To chose to follow and tread on one

Is the unfortunate contradiction to conviction.

In my time of need

Sound of summoning,

Of desperate reckoning.

In my time of need, 

Your voice emanating from realms real

Cut lose from tentacles

Of my own imagination.