When you wake up earlier than early, as per usual, and attempt to ignore all ruminations which WILL seek disorder and chaos of the mind, simultaneously taking you away from yourself, your natural, GOOD and decently routine thoughts and, somehow, FuCk kNoWs HoW(!), still manage at landing your style of scribbles 😃 Yup, that’s it in a nutshell really. Sink-or-swim. How very goddamn rottenly cliche for a ‘scribbler’ to have to swim, only with a Micheal Phelps level of prestige and in a mental sense as opposed to physical, whilst simultaneously sinking 🤷♂️ 🎊 ✍️ 🧠
They bring these weapons of crass and commonplace destruction with them, these enviously imagined and ENLARGIFIED minds which find time and OTHER tantamount portrayals to make mere EAGER(!!) sense of themselves
Yet, WAIT a MERE eager minute right there now! But how ON EARTH can we EVER even accept them for exactly what they REALLY appear to have been…
if their “minutiae minds” CAN INFACT unearth the time: times-a-thousand preparatory thoughts of wine-laden industrious eVeNiNgTiMeS of delicious dishevelment and OTHER f-i-n-e-l-y ENGROSSING, organically enhanced things!?
Do WE… pAuSe for a fair SmIle… and speak with them so very wry and shyly, so VERY s-O-f-T-l-y until,
or talk with their each-and-every warring, SPARRING earpiece and passionately PROceed to PlEaD like beggars…
With their NEVER-ENDING, NeRvE-lAdEn sense of ImPeNdInG doom and GlOoM: EVEN if, and WHEN(!), SOMEHOW… it is inexplicABLY JARRED and therefore,
HARD to ever EVEN know-HOW: To link one mother-fucker Jones with the other