Morning Moon

I am awake now, but don’t want to be.

The computer is somehow tied into my subconscious like it has made  pact and I am supposed to write everyday no matter what. But I cannot seem to find what it is I am supposed to write or want to write. “Oh my god what am I thinking? Who gives a shit!”

The voice chimed in sort of rude and from out of no where. “You don’t know what you are saying!” I was calm, too tired to debate at this time of day. Besides, what in the hell am I doing having this debate now. I want to sleep anyway. My auto pilot just kicked in without thinking, drawing me in to write something – anything. The messed up thing is that I should be exercising, but instead, words fall out of me constantly lately. Sometimes something gets posted – but mostly it is just a vomiting of things processed from the day before, from my dreams, from my life.

I don’t care. On one hand, I am still as a sleeping owl in a tree or tucked into the high rafters of the barn. I don’t really know what is on the other foot.. they’re just words. Yes, I am aware of the misuse of language and frankly – I don’t give a damn.

Age is upon me. I can see it only about 3 days away now. I have this sense that my time is limited. I am going through the days with some desperation. I can feel the reaper’s touch, tapping his wrist watch impatiently. I am not afraid of him and he knows this. I have played tricks with it – but my kids keep me alive. There are other things too.. but not much.

Moonlight with the Harvest is my day of birth. It means not much to me. I have been without celebration in my life for too long and have forgotten, even become self-conscious with its meaning and unfamiliar enough to wonder about worthiness. You’d think that a class partier would still be rocking things over – creating moments. I do in my own way. Still, it is not the same and I have sacrificed much out of a sense of loyalty and pride. But these were my decisions and I am ok. Now, there is discovery and curiosity.

The season is changing, moving into a period of reenergizing, of transformation. I have been told about power many times, my power. I suppose it did take some force to separate the thin line between coffee filters this morning. Of course, one day that could become a real triumph and perhaps should be celebrated – recognized in this moment that I did it. Ironically, there was a time when I could not. But that was a long time ago now.

It sort of brings me to competition – or the idea of it and how it has influenced. For now – another day is about to begin as the gray span of my morning is winding down and I have to go create solutions for my keep.

Published by darren thompson

hello invisible people, I have lived well and continue to live well enough. I hope the same for you. Writing during a pandemic with catastrophic wildfires, hurricanes, economic collapse, political strife, and toxic air means one tends to be pretty sedentary. I am reminded of our last trip to Cartagena, Colombia and the gang of sloths hanging out in the trees. Funny, I don't think sloths are ever behind schedule though. The book, FALLEN, is near completion. I know I've said this before, but I am definitely in the final lap with it. Though, I have not settled on the publishing or marketing of it, yet. I am not even sure how I will use this website. Admittedly, I've been writing on this bit for the better part of ten years. My mind has been wrapped around some weird urban sci-fi-fantasy junk. Feels like a twisted premonition of what is happening today. On another creative front, I am setting up a new website called: which I am kind of excited about. These are writings and ramblings and musings of life when I am out of the flow with writer's block. There projects within projects there. Oh, I live in the Columbia River Gorge of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST. My characters are way more interesting. thanks.

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