I don't write. I create.
I woke up/I wake up.
I open the window/I opened the window.
I feel the cold/I felt the cold.
I consider the freshness of the air circulating/I considered the coldness of the circulated air.
The actions about I repeat over and over, I let the coldness in and again I start over. I was not aware of the gap until my space felt colder.
My oh my what an ‘unprocessed day!’
I mean, it’s only 11:33 am here in the United Kingdom.
I heard from a bird that sang the sweetest notes.
I never stopped to record it, although I recall it was a moment ago.
When I know you’re a liar, lying to me right now.
Yet, I give you time and attention.
I hear my instinct saying, ‘Unique! What the fuck are you doing? Why are you bothering? You know he’s mentally screwing YOU!’
I love your voice, loved your voice, I adored the attention.
I accepted your lies, for nanoscopic specks of affection.
The Mindgame was a game played by two.
You believed I believed you and I knew the truth.
You called on the 3rd of May 2020 at 23:53
My phone was on night mode, which means there was no ringing for me to see or hear.
You withheld your number unknown was the information provided.
I don’t know who you are or why you even decided to call so late.
It could have been important? But I guess I’ll never know.
No caller ID, no numbers on show.
What are you staring at?
What do you like about me?
What do you think we will become?
What do you think dreams will be?
What do you think people will see?
What can you bring to the grave for peace?
What is a question that will never cease?
Every heartbeat counts.
In the depths of a great book I see a word I do not know, I grab my green highlighter and highlight like a pro!
Some lines grab me, pull in and beg me to remember. I highlight and I shine spotlights on words that warm old embers.
From the classics through to modern text, I’m interested and I wonder. A world without Writers would be horrible, what thoughts to evade sombre.
When I first met you, you were always cold and unwelcoming. I clicked switches and turned hobs and you just wouldn’t turn on.
I eventually saw your bright red glowing rings. So beautiful!
I placed a saucepan on the stove and warmed up some oat-milk, mixed in some oats and sprinkled some sugar.
The Stove, electric. Unknown to me before that day.
The stove, new and a learning curve for me in the ways of the kitchen.
The stove, I burnt a lot of food at the start. The temperature too high always too high but felt too low, to begin with.
Now that we’ve had some time together, I understand what you want and you know what I need.
Our shared memories and the nights you’ve witnessed my greed.
The Stove, are we in this?
Yes! Of course, we are. I’ll cook with you and they clean with you, your elements are my fire.
A roof over your head.
Food in the fridge.
Stop complaining!
Access to hot water, hot and clean may I add.
Stop complaining!
Fresh fruit and vegetables, the word fresh being key.
A warm bed to sleep in, but you want more you see.
Stop complaining.
We’ve been asked to stay indoors, the way I hear many of you moaning, you would’ve thought you’ve been asked to go to war.
Home sweet home.
You can work from home.
You may find love.
You can sell your soul.
If you have a soul, you can do all of the above.
I read online there are 101 ways to tell someone that they’re a crap friend.
I heard from a friend an apology that they’re a shitty person.
I imagine new people to become acquaintances and real friends – ones that aren’t trash, like the friends around my ends.
I real online there are 101 ways to make an omelette, I try to stay away from the idea of it.
I heard from a friend that people who eat eggs are cruel.
I imagine new rules for the people that set rules.
I read online there are 101 ways to say, ‘I love you.’
I heard from a friend that only one of 101 is often used.
If using was an occupation, 101% of the ignorant population would be hired – Well recorded as volunteers.
Online a web that’s sticky.
Soft.
Fragrant.
Bright.
Tulip exudes all the love I have inside for you!
Sensual.
Appreciated.
Adored.
Tulip is all the beauty I’m looking for.
It was on a dating site we matched, chatted and exchanged numbers.
We went on to exchange sounds.
Exchange feelings.
Exchange memories.
Exchange love.
Exchange resentment.
Exchange life.
Exchange disappointment.
Exchange expectations.
Exchange new desires.
Exchange old likes.
Exchange lies.
Blocked.
Deleted.
A simple phone call.
A basic text.
A brief e-mail.
A letter, what next?
A twenty-minute walk, outside whenever you like.
A bite into a homemade brownie, two bites into warm delight.
A hot bubble-bath filled with pink-himilayan salt and essential oils.
Chilled Cow playing on YouTube and care is all I know.
I was waiting.
I had waited, years upon years to meet you.
You arrived warm and beautiful.
I wish you could’ve seen you.
Holding you tightly for a moment, but never forever.
Tears fall silently onto you – My baby, one day we’ll be together.
Can you show me your heart and I’ll show you mine?
I want us to compare love, especially at this time.
Can you show me your mind and I’ll teach you about life?
I want us to compare thoughts, even more so this time.
Can you show me your memories and I’ll tell you my story?
I want us to compare history, although history is history.
If ever there was a day to reflect, I hear Saturday is the worst day to select.
It’s usually busy and predictable.
But would you bet on a Saturday to meditate? Mediate? Or simply to differentiate from the time we already have allotted to us?
I guess that’s a question for you to facilitate?
I’ll always love you.
The heater is on; my feet are cold. Who would’ve guessed May would be so cold?
All I feel like doing is curling up in my bed and sleeping in.
But it’s May 1st and may I remind myself, I have 30,000 words to write.
Rather than typing, I’m going to write by hand today – that way I know, it’s written and not avoided.
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