Welcome to the Quicksand

Are there flight attendants on board this alien ship, to direct me to the emergency exits? To point out the emergency lighted paths on the floors? To instruct in how to get high off of oxygen as we all go down?

Well at least we all be together... and smiling.

Mrs. P-S-H here...

There is only nine and half Great British pounds in my hubby's Noble Poker account.

It isn't his anymore. It's mine.

What is this wet substance on my palms? Why are they itching? Why don't I loathe myself as much as I want to?

I think, "When that 9 pounds fifty runs out, I just won't add any more in. That will be it."

But, far away, in the far corners of the last sane part of my mind, I can hear my old self shouting. Sweet little church mouse, she is. What's that, honey?

"It'll never happen!" she's squeeking.

Excuse number one:
It's not my fault. It's not real. It's not happening.

Or is that three?

Here's the song going through my head, these days:

Blood from a Stone

It's as if we're tracing some familiar faultline
Running down the coast from you to me
Dark potential just beneath the surface,
All the worlds colliding in the tragedy

Blood from a stone, wine from water
I'd die here alone, only daughter
Blood from a stone, wine from water
I'd die here alone, like a lamb to slaughter

Silence has become our only currency
You pay me and I'll be sure to pay you back
But step lightly 'til you've crossed the jagged border
'Cause the earth may shift beneath you, pull the rug out,
All your history keeping track

Blood from a stone, wine from water
I'd die here alone, only daughter
Blood from a stone, wine from water
I'd die here alone, like a lamb to slaughter

I'll reel in my addictions in the face of your distress
Aches and pains all shelved and put aside
I'll jump to my conclusions, but I'll leap to your defense
And I'll wish I were the brave one as I breathe another lie

'Cause it runs in the family, it's coursing through our veins
It lingers and gets caught in our hearts
Running in the family, it's a little like insane
The trimmings and the trappings of the artist and the art

Blood from a stone, wine from water
I'd die here alone, only daughter
Blood from a stone, wine from water
I'd die here alone, like a lamb to slaughter --

Jonatha Brooke