Recovery Through Writing

Stream of Consciousness

Stream of Consciousness

By Kathleen

Waves of sadness come and go, flow, flow.

Flowers growing — grow, grow fat, white.

Can’t think of images, feelings, chakra colors.

What song is playing?

They are all so slow, mellow.

Do they think we will get too stirred up while dining?

Diving, driving, drinking.

Stop the sadness. Stop the thoughts.

Stop these stupid meaningless poetic-less words.

Streaming, steaming, stewing, stockings.

Short, don’t fit.

S*** and fat.

Covered from head to toe like a nun, like a saint — think of that.

Waves of sadness.

I hate feeling stupid and useless.

I hate being an alcoholic.

Turn the page.

Turned the page — new life

How? Why?

I should know better.

Can’t stop writing. Must continue.

I am not a poet, a novelist, a dancer, a singer.

All the things I wanted to be: a Broadway star, a nun with a cigar, the A+ student.

People don’t care — do I care? I do.

Talking, talking.