Don’t quit five minutes before the miracle.

I’m tired.

Wiped, discouraged, caput, worn down, exhausted.

I am not winning this mammoth battle with the mind. I can no longer distinguish between mania and anxiety, thoughts race ahead anyway without definition. Oxygen depleted and unrelenting physical pain does not let up.

No, no, no, no way. There’s no way I can keep up with this living thing. I am not strong enough.

Am I?

Just when I think I have used and abused every single resource left with no reserve, a timely reminder appears.

It’s not about me, it never was. This life is not mine to begin with. I am circular memories, sand granules stolen backwards in time.

Precious quartz that most assuredly slips through my fingers returning to earth how it began.

So what if I can’t see clearly when the angels can?

So what if I can’t see clearly when the angels can?

“Your time stamp is 2:22 which in angel numerology means, “Don’t quit before your miracle occurs!” 

angel 1

“Newly planted ideas are beginning to grow into reality. Keep watering and nurturing them, and soon they will push through the soil.”

I believe in angels, pixie dust, numbers, crystals, and dark/ light matters we cannot see or comprehend.

To dream wearing a featherweight light suit of armor while speckles of  gold, violet, teal, fuchsia and indigo angel dust flutters abound.

Streaming Ties That Bind: 'She never laughed anymore. Nothing was fun; life was not a game.'

1305708228_for_the_magic_of_books_by_bucikah-d3erv59
© Laslo Luca Gerta

She disappeared inside the land of make-believe, filled with Crayola crayons so bright she wore tinted sunglasses

I always thought true love was equivalent to good poetry

dying today, today, today

I‘ve learned how to sleep alone with my dreams

A young girl fell in love with art, without perhaps ever knowing his  name

                                             beautiful emotional mess

Taste the warm rain possibility

New Orleans, swamp and rust hinges                          Bayou                                            the blues brings me up

I’ll take off-centered any day

She never laughed anymore. Nothing was fun; life was not a game

       Opal. Solid, American name, meaning: Jewel. precious gem                 call me Seven

Migrant Mother

mullet, dope, acid drop, LSD

roadkill triage wipeout

WORDS WORDS WORDS                   mayIhavethisdance            PENSIVE  

flashpanmoments

Prose mistress

By the beautiful grace of God and my conviction and glory in the simplest things, I give away all my dreams

                                 YOU’RE SKINNY, YOU DON’T HAVE ANY PROBLEMS 

Sweet Georgia Pine always yearning for something better

Sisterlove, GINGER BLOND BRUNETTE delicious

                      spirit guide whispers secrets to a child

CRYSTALLINE DELICIOUS

    indigo sky lanterns, hotdogs, hamburgers, corn, green beans, sweet tea and lemonade

Adelaide laughs through tear drops, opens the box, sets Pretty free

See you soon, daddy  Positively, positive       Harry was eagerly waiting, anxious to be reunited with her love

linear thoughts become stories

stories become tangible                        Paperbacks                    gatekeeper

                The Vast Landscape                                                            Georgia Pine

                    WRITE IT.    

whatyouknow           whatyouhaveseen          whatyouhavefelt  

words by Jacqueline Cioffa

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