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at one-fifteen in the morning, after the cat has played at getting up on the desk all night, after I have spent a day working on the wrong assignment, the one which I had the inclination to do rather than the one with the impending doom—I mean deadline.

I wonder what it is that I'm doing that's actually working, even though the numbers haven't lied, not yet.

we'll see if that holds true, with the brief break in the running up to Thursday, and continuation the day or two after. if I'm right, the numbers go back down in the break, and it really is something I'm doing that's working even if finding out involves temporary misery.

but what it is, or in what combination, I don't think I'll ever know.

#AmWriting #Covid19 #Nonfiction #Original #ProsePoetry #Story #TheTruth #WhateverThisIs

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truth.

telling the truth and telling your own truth are two radically different phenomena.

I have the truth written upon my wrist, each stroke, each dot of niqqudot, forming the whole of the word permanently inked.

the word that can animate life, truth itself strong enough to protect us from those who would seek to harm us.

don't feel; don't think; don't trust.

and then with one brief swipe of an eraser, or or a hand wet down with water, a block of clay added.

and truth becomes death, and aids no one.

#Addiction #AddictionRecovery #AmWriting #Codependency #Golem #Fiction #Funhouse #Original #ShortFiction #TheInvestigator #TheTruth #WhateverThisIs