Like a face that I hold insidePMS is different for most women. We each go through varying degrees of grumpiness, being over-emotional, in general just needing our Midol. I’m really not so different except for that I’m hyper-emotional anyway so there are moments during the week or so before I’m on the rag that this she-beast inside of me, who I generally keep under control and happy with a few scraps here and there, becomes a slavering monster. Her claws rip through my body like hot knives through butter and at times, it’s all I can do to control her and the impulses she throws at me. For the most part, the center holds and the knowledge and defense mechanisms I’ve cultivated over the years manage to keep things copacetic.
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin
But there are rare moments when it’s all too much and everything I’m feeling and thinking explodes and lies there, open and raw and vulnerable, a victim to the violence of my personal hormonal tsunami.
And like everyone else alive in this world, it’s then that keeping my shit together just makes me so fucking tired.
The sun goes down
I feel the light betray me