the whole poem was triggered by a dentist appointment yesterday. bad time. and when i started to write, it all came rushing out. but at least i'm seeing the connections and understanding what is going on and why and how to handle it better...
i was wondering if i should even post it because it seemed so graphic to me - but maybe that was because it was my own memories with the images and sensory stuff. and then i thought what if people think i'm making a joke out of it. but i wanted to show what it is like to have that happen.
A man talking sense to himself is no madder than a man talking nonsense to not himself.
Or just as mad.
So there you are.
Stark raving sane.
- Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead