A Different Dark

a beautiful woman who is not me — Photo by Guilherme Caetano on Unsplash

I’m in a brain smog state.

Words aren’t spilling from my fingertips or floating in the head as much as they used to. I haven’t written. My dreams are quite vivid, story framed. Awake I feel corrosive and scattered.

When I was earning an income, I’d frequently be steeped in moments of wishing for a different sort of day. I had ideas. I had a pretty extensive “get done” list. I had lingering wishes to write…