Tumult renders me paralyzed as the day holds silent in no particular manner still, silent, dry mist in and about this residence. The grip of Monday jeers at my shock of solitude not welcomed and concretizes itself into a badgering Blue Jay that won’t go away. Gray cloudy chills roll through the hours, calling up memories and feelings of my frenzied youth. Coffee laden chatter and crowded thoughts in coffee shops that never stop. Paint brush marathon’s beating the canvas not aware of the dampness or darkness or late hours, frantic. Fragile flowers, limp yellows boxed in my studio without care of time passing and the caffeine—electricity racing around in my mouth, fuels and spews out of my cursing lips. Fingertips lit like bolts of lightning. I erect that power-shock today as I sit in tumult rolling like tumbleweeds, in the fractured hour of this now afternoon, of this shitty Monday blues. Clouded gray showers with doom possible on the horizon if no answers start rising, clearing my head from this paralyzing tumult of misty bliss!
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Paola Chaaya on Unsplash
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