At home today….getting back to my Okie roots. (Taken with instagram)
What happens if you fall in love with a writer? -
Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning….
(Source: karenfelloutofbedagain)
About to shake some stuff up around here, dear followers.
I’m no longer identifying myself as “vaguemumble.” It’s not appropriate to me anymore. I’m tired of splitting up my writing, my hobbies and my life into separate endeavors. I want them all under one roof, one moniker, because all of it is me.
And upon contemplation, I’ve decided I’m doing everything under my old title of The Chaos Grenade. A Vague Mumble isn’t me anymore….I’ve come out of my chains and howled with the beasts and forged my spirit in the fires of it all. Through my followers, fellow poets (and warrior poets), muses and drunken debaucheries my mumbling has become a slow, steady roar.
This mean I’ll probably be doing a bit more than just my writing on here…I’ll probably be sharing my nerd side on here, as well as some personal rants. But I’ll do my best to keep it all informative and relevant and not just some re-hash of what the rest of the internet may be saying.
I was drowning in my madness.
I was fighting the currents,
I was screaming out in darkness
and choking on the cold waters.
You saw me there with you, sinking.
You reached out and grabbed my hand,
and with me you shared your breath;
you anchored me to this place.
You didn’t allow me to surface;
instead you reminded me how to swim.
You taught me to breathe again,
and to adjust my eyes to the murky underglow.
I always sank here to be away from them,
to be alone in my cold comforts and dark waves.
But now I sink here to find you waiting for me,
to take comfort in your words and dark heart.
To take comfort in knowing another monster like me,
to drift to the uncertain waves in our deep solace;
to drift to slumber by the haunting melodies
of your sea-swept lullabyes.