Fire Bloom


Fire Bloom

“Find the night in a lick of blue.”
—Woodheavy Brown

Been feeling weird lately, as if my Reusables aren’t gelling with their indigenous dispensing junctions.

So much of a general, ongoing happiness in life is contingent on good physical and mental health. Immune system, genetics, location, and chance all play a part. And so much of good health, at least in my case, is an ongoing balance of medications, an unknown biological countdown (ticking clock), and daily decisions about diet and activity.

When you toss a handful of paper clips, I am the outlying most clip: the outlier in any random spread, that’s me.

And it’s a love-hate relationship, for sure. A battle. A sky full of arrows. The way I feel about me—at once it’s hooray and go away!—it’s a conflict internal, in the fashion of Hamlet or Edgar from King Lear. I mean, it appears almost entirely in my mind. The stage in my head.

I should be mutable. I think of myself as mutable. But it needs to be the complete mutability of thoughtlessness. Mine is more of an elastic mutability; I begin to change/progress, and then I get snapped back. The overarching personality SKYNET deep within my brain keeps a tight hold on my strings.


K. Shawn Edgar | Fixed Cog | Splined | Single Compound

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