Interesting addition to the clothes I wear.
I add many things to this small, zipped, denim location.
Tissue, paracetamol, lip-balm, eye-drops, hand cream, lemon sherbet drops and a three page letter.
I wrote about 2020.
I transferred pain from my heart, to these pages, to my pocket.
I released everything. Yet, I keep memories folded and close by.
Maybe, they’ll wash away the deeper I stride into this scenic lake.
The only thing that matters is my birth.
Strange how I hold on to pain. I dispel it throughout my writing and relive nightmares again.
The car was operated from the rear left wheel. It was a whole mini car as a stand-alone piece.
I remember every word.
Images are too vivid in my mind.
It’s the fear I felt at the time, the emotional hurt.
‘Unique, why rent when you can buy your own house. Renting is wasted money.’
Unique- so, you own your own house?
‘Yes, I pay £400 PCM on a mortgage.’
A mortgage is a glorified loan. Don’t lecture me about my money.
You don’t own shit until you own every brick, not 34% of it. Outright ownership, legit shit.
So the next time you wanna preach to me about why I rent. My money is my money and every penny is well spent.
My life is not bankrolled by handouts.
My home isn’t funded by an ex.
My home wasn’t gifted to me because I have a baby.
I’ll always earn my way and pay for my life. I don’t need a man or a fucking mortgage – I’m independent.
I’m tired and it’s Friday.
You have long hair, it’s braided.
Your lips are smoothed in red.
Your hair is sweet with coconut and honey aromas.
Your eyes are brown – I love your eyes.
Your eyelashes are curled and I know that’s all-natural.
Your lips taste like cherries.
You sound like an angel from the garden of Bliss.
Your skin is soft and I know you use coconut oil to moisturise your body.
Your body is beautiful.
Your mind is unique.
My dream girl…
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Twitter – @Dame_Unique:
Fuck the process.
Mix it up with pink lemonade and let it spray on the sugar feins.