I'm not crying..

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I'm just not good with physical trumua, pain and illness. It all makes me a bit green and fainty. It's what happened some people embrace the yoke and start having a relationship with it, I wanted to avoid that as much as possible, I began where it ended. There was no other way to be for me to be. The self harm never became a habit it was lashing out not an addiction. Like drugs and sex they were short terms necessities not long term life style choices. I walked away, I burned bridges I obliterated rare precious memories to keep a space no matter how small between me and the machine. Now it means that I go into shock after dental extractions and period pains almost make me puke. Flu I cannot mention..

War poem? It is developing quite lovely, physical detail gets added in as I strip the early drafts back to the intentions, sweet.

Terra nuillus/dark enery.

xxxx

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