Exhaustion takes a new level
Bring the brief ambition to the exchange of claws. They grip the ice like no tomorrow. The mind hurls down this mentality that positive and courage outrank everything else.
A small wisp of hope and a gazillion bushels of faith lead me standing strong even after a night exhausting my lungs, ribs and chest muscles.
I know not why I keep heaving up even water. I have tried to understand and all o get from the search is confusion.
I just know to elevate my thinking that I can achieve anything with Jehovah's power. But first I must get back under his wings of protection.
Right now I am seated in my chair. Hoping that sleep comes and no more emptying the contents of my stomach to porcelian. I am exhausted.
Exhausted. 12 bouts is enough. I am not going to be negative and cry for that will make the meditation phase worthless.
Breathing techniques hold me tight. I cling to the hope that I am done for the night. The soul is finished the screaming out of all food and liquids. Pulled me through a ringer and now I am just wanting enough peace to close my eyes to gain black sleep. The healing process to begin again.
A hope.
As the poem demanded a voice my mind closes so the worn soul can catch up to the lively spirit.
I smile with that hope. That goal will be achieved because I believe it will.
A small wisp of hope and a gazillion bushels of faith lead me standing strong even after a night exhausting my lungs, ribs and chest muscles.
I know not why I keep heaving up even water. I have tried to understand and all o get from the search is confusion.
I just know to elevate my thinking that I can achieve anything with Jehovah's power. But first I must get back under his wings of protection.
Right now I am seated in my chair. Hoping that sleep comes and no more emptying the contents of my stomach to porcelian. I am exhausted.
Exhausted. 12 bouts is enough. I am not going to be negative and cry for that will make the meditation phase worthless.
Breathing techniques hold me tight. I cling to the hope that I am done for the night. The soul is finished the screaming out of all food and liquids. Pulled me through a ringer and now I am just wanting enough peace to close my eyes to gain black sleep. The healing process to begin again.
A hope.
As the poem demanded a voice my mind closes so the worn soul can catch up to the lively spirit.
I smile with that hope. That goal will be achieved because I believe it will.
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