Fiction and poetry writing, recapturing the muse.
22:79
An inch of dark routes is visible,
just like everyone else.
Some are polite and pretend
not to see,
while others comment openly,
pleased yours is worse than theirs.
The judged rush to cover and hide,
disguise dark for light,
human for saintly.
Others gave up and let it grow,
natural sin cascading
over their body
and basking in the
extra time they gain
by not pretending.
22:78
Your suggestion now
annoys you,
and any who don’t
want the plan to
change are the
stubborn and difficult obstacles.
Plow through with brute force,
because the righteous
should never have to
manoeuvre around such traps.
Only a straight path will do.
22:77
Schedule in the romance
because it can’t happen
naturally anymore.
Perhaps it’s no longer there
and only memory
is joining us together.
22:76
Click on that notification
and maybe you’ll
learn who I really am.
Wouldn’t that be
an exciting twist.
22: 75
Find a knife to
stab away the crumbs,
but wonder what
it would feel like
to pierce your eye
and no longer see
the little things
that are so irritating.
22:74
Please stop thinking,
it’s rather exhausting.
My mind can’t keep up
with the worse-case scenarios
that dominate
instead of filter through.
Some quiet,
some rest
will make the day
bearable again.
22:73
Do you long to go back
and walk the path of
childhood, when life was simple.
For the quiet of before
the world was demanding,
and you became the one
people relied on.
Do you regret that you
can’t sit by the riverbank
and just breathe in
the busyness of others,
while you remain
still.
22:72
Drift into your
area of life
I can’t enter.
I will remain in mine,
where you never
tried to follow.
22:71
Climb on others
to be higher,
squash their frame
and deflate their chance
until they learn their place
and reduce themselves
to more realistic goals.
22:70
Do your job
and feel relief
when you actually succeed.
Perhaps you’re not
so useless after all.
Scribbled Thoughts