Failure

I pride myself on my planning

I write lists day after day

I schedule my time wisely

So that nothing gets in the way

I prepare for every eventuality

Without a pause for breath

But the one thing I didn’t account for

Was your untimely death

Xxx

Crossroads

If all roads lead to hell

Then let me out of the car

As I’m looking for salvation

And I’ve already come too far

A Chocolatey Collaboration

Isn’t it just amazing
What reading aloud can do
How through someone else’s voice
Your story can feel all the more true

I’m honoured you picked this piece, my friend,
And have given it life anew
I may well have written the words
But here the credit belongs to you

A huge thanks to Matt Snyder of https://aprolicicpotpourri.art/

https://anchor.fm/matt-david-snyder/embed/episodes/The-Bakery-Aisle-ev39s1 A short story about love by my favorite writer/collaborator friend from Northern Scotland, Little Charmer.

Short Story Saturday: The Bakery Aisle

Sláinte!

New friends

Old friends

Friends I’ve yet to meet

I hope and pray

One day you’ll say

That I was right up your street

Star Crossed

Why the fuck did we start this

He said

When we knew it would have to end

I guess now we’re no longer lovers

She said

We can never be friends

Perverse

It’s only when you lie

I find

That my pain goes away

But when you tell the truth

I find

I don’t know what to say

Dissociation

To not know

Who to trust

Certainly fucking hurts

But to be unsure

Of ones own self

Is infinitely worse

The Support Group

I do not come here

Every week

Looking for praise or reward

For I don’t deserve

Any of those things

Of that I have been assured

Random #74

‘… I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises, and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air—look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire—why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world. The paragon of animals. And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me. No, nor woman neither…’

Hamlet: Act II, Scene II
(or Withnail – your choice)

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