Standing wild-violet-timid in careful shoes, I collapse into Monday.

My internal weather is spiky with low-level nausea. Brain fog, mind-cloudy at first, with a high chance of precipitation across the afternoon. Externally, the settling cold front will bring morning squalls before a high-pressure system arrives in the early evening.

Difficult to know what shoes are needed  
for this day, this time,

let alone what armour, masks, and steel
with this climate, this energy...

Hard to predict what will be stored in memory
by this mind, this brain...

This questionable,
yet seldom questioned,
recording of events,
from my flawed perspective only...

Should I attempt to trust myself today?
The answer neither clear nor confident
Instant reflex shoulder shrug
With gaze-avoiding fizzy nerves
A patent hint that I may be
    a trifle less than competent

What lens will shape my history today?
And will it light me kindly or in glare?
When my parts construct the story
Hope they break it to me gently
But I know that my track record
    not-so-subtle hints beware
  
If my brain detects a glimpse of faults or glimmers of malfeasance,
it will use these torts to make the case that I deserve all grievance
from a host of inner parties with a wavering allegiance
the impedance to agreeance is a tendence to vehemence, so

How will I use the playback from today?
I could use it well in kindness or in pain
With the re-runs stealing airtime
From productive contemplation
I could use it as more proof that
    I should not have trust again…

Tomorrow, I will wear my security boots, with stronghold socks.