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It contorted on the stairs
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fish face foot
It contorted on the stairs, crawling on all fours. My senses tapped in, I didn’t want them. Easier to disappear. With each step the creature stepped, the rickety floorboards creak and it feels like needles unleashed in piercing spiral flurries eat me. It’s days like this I wish I didn’t exist.
When I wake up the new morning is usual as always. The single spoon of sugar stirred quickly in the coffee and then outside to view my sage bush who is fresh pruned. Crazy Daisies too.
I don’t know, I suppose it’s fine.
I suppose it is. Coffee is
I suppose it is. Coffee is good. Daisies are good, sage bush pruned is good... but... yeah hey.
I like the mundane quality of this as we often pretend these things don't exist or dont affect us. Shell shocked or post traumatic.real or imagined is just as powerful as these every day iconograma in your poetry. Just marvellous! Now say thankyou. You have coffee. Coffee is good, daisies are good... sage bush is pruned... that's good...but... yeah hey?
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
yeah okay
I enjoy these fine comments of yours way too much to settle for a mere thanks ay maybe let simmer for a minute or month yeah baybay
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes