I'm almost convinced that every migraine I have does something to my personality. That's stupid, I know, but sometimes the thought lurks a little too dark, and it makes sense, in an incoherent sort of way. I just know that I'm tired of migraines. I had an ER-level one Saturday night, and though it was tempting to want to go, or to call my doc and see what she could do for me, I just...I don't have the money for a hospital visit. Nor a doc's visit. I ended up medicated, per usual, and passed out on the couch.
My world would be a beautiful place, if I could just save some money and realize that life that haunts me. Visions, ghosts, memories--what a potent brew they make toward creating in a bottle a mind-wrapped miniature of what I most desire--that life, that life that Kermit so blithely sings about in "Rainbow Connection." His song is saccharine, but it true. It tastes of truth, albeit too sugary sometimes. The thought is solid, and that's what matters.
have you been half-asleep / and have you heard voices / I've heard them calling my name
is this the sweet sound / that calls the young sailors / the voice might be one and the same
Yes, I've been half-asleep, and full-awake, and felt that tidal pull. Felt that powerful and perfumed pull of desire and reality. It's as close to real as we can come in this world, you know?
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