My creative quiet

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January 15, 2015 by Sarah Christine Bolton

Written June 5, 2011

Sometimes, I feel
like my life has
become the monotony
of repetition.

Dust, gathered on
replicates at

And taunts me
in the daylight, slipping up into
my nose with
grubby tendrils.

I miss those days
of finishedness.

Of completion.

I want just one
day that doesn’t
off the edge of
the counter like
dirty dishwater.


Those fucking dishes.
They replicate, too.
More like breed.

All the things I want to do

Buffalo jump

get tangled with
everything I
should do.

It’s like a wrestling match.

My life. These days.

Wrestling the baby.

Maneuvering my
time like a
sweaty, slippery

Most days, my
time wins… or
is it loses…?
the battle with my
to-do list. And then
I’m left. Sinking.
Sighing. Stressing.

Mini cities of frozen

How lovely to be
frozen in time…
frozen in a moment
a moment that
into forever.

In that moment,
you see time
change all
around you.

But there you
Forced to see every
detail. Forced to
count the tiles.


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