Spiritual Hysteria

Let's traverse through life
one minute at a time
mediate the good 
blind rememberance of bad
listen to the music
the pulsating beat the
extraterrestrial celestial
rhythm of connection
may we get high on
our spiritual hysteria
as it becomes clearer
that we are fucked

Hi i am back after a long time, i am glad Opusia is still going, are there still allnthe writing challenges?

I Felt Like Julia Roberts He screamed that I was a dull cunt or some other profanity because he said I didn't know how to put tins into the cupboard properly. He pulled me by the hair and he shouted at me to look as he proceeded to show me the correct way of putting them away. And in terror I watched as he dictated to me how useless I was and he rearranged the tins so all the labels were perfectly aligned and front facing. A few months passed and one night we were laying on the bed watching the t.v. and a movie came on. As we watched it I was haunted by the kitchen cupboard and all of the tins. I felt degraded as I watched that scene because it had actually happened to me and for that night I felt like I was Julia Roberts. I went to sleep crying silently wishing I could escape from sleeping with the enemy and the tins in the cupboard.

The Memory Puzzle Pictures are enigmas in retrospective blur, recollect sepia in playback to recur. Enigmas and memories in lost and faded words, #life a silent movie once lived coloured and heard. Memories and puzzles wistfully recollect, each a precious moment to cherish and protect. Endeared minutes captured in futures reminisced, cinematic thinking of heartbeats that are missed. ©Jacqui Slade

The Memory Puzzle The Memory Puzzle Pictures are enigmas in retrospective blur, recollect sepia in playback to recur. Enigmas and memories in lost and faded words, #life a silent movie once lived coloured and heard. Memories and puzzles wistfully recollect, each a precious moment to cherish and protect. Endeared minutes captured in futures reminisced, cinematic thinking of heartbeats that are missed. ©Jacqui Slade