feels contrived and probably is
what could i want to say now
already thinking it through too much
don't want a memoir
don't want an epistolary
definitely not a diary
just thoughts streaming
running
crawling
sleeping
so i can observe the inside of a head
words pictures ideas that fill and filter
i think i shall return later
(is this how you thought it would be?)
it's a bit like watching myself in a mirror
bathing
or on the loo
or having sex
maybe it'll get better over time
listen to covid news
laugh at the neighbourhood watch safety group
someone made a covid comment
it went downhill from there
men complaining mostly
yes i see why
they go on and on and on some more about the same thing
each commenting blindly negative
each one the only adam
i can see this becoming a diary living faithfully in my drafts
(how can one write on nothing?)
sounds like a waste of something
seems i cannot get past myself either
even in the bathroom
even in the bedroom
(i rode my bicycle past your window last night)
seasofme200621
