2023: Comfort Is Served
We are all angry. Seething and out for blood. Where do we go from here? The pandemic has been the arsenic cherry on the difficult lessons of a decade.
We are all angry. Seething and out for blood. Where do we go from here? The pandemic has been the arsenic cherry on the difficult lessons of a decade.
There is an interesting thing about memory foam. It yields to your touch & pressure. Not fast, not reacting. More like an indulgence, a consideration. Later it pauses with the impression you’ve left on it, as if ruminating. Just as meditatively it returns to its original self.
It isn’t intimacy unless it feels a little tender.
A lovely return to my late 20s where books absorbed me with a rigour I did not experience in my social or professional life. It was like coming home.
A house that is a warzone. A courtroom for custody battles. Dumping ground for other people’s pain. My body.
If I were fifteen years younger, I’d identify as nonbinary. Gender has been the biggest weapon of the beaten path.
Feeling the tug between two places – one that feels like home and one that is dutifully home.
I have poems by old lovers,
not about me
not the loves,
not the poetry.
The second dark COVID of my soul is here except it doesn’t feel quite as dark. I feel stupid and it is peaceful.
‘From Scratch’ on Netflix made me realise the world doesn’t know how & why death shows up. How can we answer why people turn out as they do?