Somewhere between yesterday with me lowering my back at night, going, oooooooooh God, oh god, ooh goood, as my back eased, crackling like a hearth fire,after a long day,to now, where I play a human burrito, wrapped in a sweet blue blanket tortilla, I have apologised, I have made amends and I still feel like little people are walking inside my head, with pitchforks, poking areas that need to absolutely rest.
Little people most probably are going ” Oh, is that peace and tranquility, I see? How interesting.” * poke poke poke* ” oh, it has scattered, I see. How interesting.” * little person already losing interest*”Oh my god! Is that, by any chance, self love I see by the corner?” *poke poke poke poke boom*
The areas are going down so fast, like sleepy towns on the banks of a disaster. Rescue efforts are falling short and pride, as it were, is dying a slow death. It has to go sometime. It has started. The slow slipping into realisation, the peek into what is, the projector being switched off and the exit signs glowing green.
The little people don’t sleep. They are tireless and they have hatched in numbers. Something must be done before they takeover. Pills only seem to work till fever and fatigue. What will cure the little people?