(no subject)

[butterflydreaming]

Anger is an acrid smelling torch. I have to restrain myself from using it like a club, but as long as I keep it burning, it's heat and uneven light give me something other than cold darkness. Without it, I have the rags of my strength and an oily sadness. And a stick. For measuring?

I don't have to always be doing. I can just be. There's lots to do, too much, but I don't have to be the one to get it done, or to see that someone else gets it done.

I need to find some magic.