Fractured and Formless – Dead Deer

Trying to make a decision that will alter the course of my life. As so often this complex and nuanced situation, full of pressures and many unclear variables, it comes to a simple binary decision. Yes or no.

And of course each of those options bring more problems and decisions. Which way to jump? How much weight to give to each important element? When my mind has been battered and bombarded for so long now (I cannot believe the calendar is telling the truth) it is left fractured and formless. Keeping thoughts in order and in place is a very delicate and almost impossible task; but I cannot chose until I  can.

My thoughts; an express train going round and round a circular route constantly knocked off track. To get it back I need to stop and start again. From the beginning. Everything needs to be in a line. I need to concentrate, and there needs to be concentration around me. Yet there is constant non-stop distractions, half-interested non-focussed demanding the answer. Just keep on topic, keep balancing the plates on the sticks until I can finally drop one way or another. Because once it is done, it is done, for better or for worse that will be the route I take.

And finally, who is driving this train? This is the worst element; the thought that what fractured my haunted head is the same thing at the controls of the train, railroading, manipulating, deciding already and merely pretending not to. As always. That is what drove us here.

Today I wrote from 22:04 to 22:14. I was prompted by ideas here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here


Nov 28th – Fractured and Formless

November 28th – Fractured and Formless



all around, and                  I don’t know where I am                                anymore:

or why I’m here. There is no        light       anymore, and it feels like there never will be again.

The wall is           cold        to my touch, my fingers tracing                  shapes                  out of


Low voices          come     (from my left, my right?) speaking in                       tongues that are

strange to me, or I am a stranger to them. What                do they want from me, these

voices?                 I have nothing                   to tell them, nothing to say any more.                     I am                 nothing.

There was light once, and colour, and people who            shared                  my name. They have

All                                                           gone. They have taken them       from me.

I whisper             liberty into the air,           and the air           swallows it down. The air              swallows

me down. I am                  nothing here, no-one.

I am full of           questions,           but none of them             can be answered. Not here, not

anywhere. My words are gravel that        fall to the ground and                                     spill.

The voices           rise. Syllables of                nothing that

roll around my ear, grating.

Then there is silence.

Silence is creeping towards                          me.

Silence is crawling over                  me.

Silence is me.


Inspired by a prompt from here