
Today was the day we stepped up and had a hard conversation.
Death, birth and life together.
I cried for a moment and found comfort in your truth.
Thank you for sharing – our future blends with rich shades of blue.
I don't write. I create.
I had £1 in my pocket. Left pocket, coat pocket.
I held it tight.
‘Spare some change please love?’
But what of this love? Who’s love? I don’t love you. You don’t know me. I’m walking by, right past you.
I reply, ‘sorry, I don’t have any spare change.’
What of spare change? Who has spare money? How would one define spare?
‘God bless you.’
What of this God? Why does he not bless you with the spare change you seek? Why do you ask for the change from strangers, when God is known as ‘all-mighty’ and women are seen as weak?
My coin is now hot.
My pocket is toasty and warm.
My mind wonders if God will return and save you, from your likelihood of doom.
Don’t expect me to be the one to say yes! Yes, I accept below-par experiences.
Don’t expect me to be the idiot that ignores your shit. I see it, I smell it, fuck off – I stepped in it.
I’m not the one. I’m not the one.
Don’t expect me to express love in a way that resembles what you deserve.
Don’t expect me to accept the bullshit you play on. Play with and share out.
I’m not the one. I’m not the one.
Don’t expect me to trade my time for your time when your time is never my time.
Don’t expect me to remain silent when your feathers are in full plumage.
I’ll never water myself down…my feathers enjoy the signs of the air. Take me straight or fuck out of here.
My title was Unique, long before the big bang. Or the theory behind the minds of those who still argue about facts.
Remember that. Remember that. Remember that.
You are macho.
That I agree.
You speak all adventures.
I’ve seen nothing of value.
We were once good friends…
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