I haven't felt compelled to spell out, shout or write about things that make me feel shit, because that's just it.
I haven't felt shit.
I mean...
I'm not fizzy, bubbly or effervescent, but the ever-present doom and grey has gone.
None of those days in a haze, waking beige, sepia tone days.
I'm amazed I made it through.
Too few do.
Who knew?
I certainly wouldn't have belived you, while I was at my lowest ebb.
Webbed fingers picking at lingering scabs.
Just me and the crabs.
No light, no warm, no air, and nowhere to go...but up.
Uprooted my manacled, barnacled ankles, and kicked like fuck.
Thanks to the tiny catfish that pulled me back up.