Will you be my mommy?

Will you be my mommy?

Will you ensure I never grow up?

Will you protect my little boy?

Do you solemnly swear to love me unconditionally?

to hug and to hold

to anticipate my needs

Will you push your life aside?

Give me your attention

Will you share you touch with warmth?

Do you promise to never wound me?

to take it back with a smile

bend over backwards to make me happy

Will you cope out of sight?

Will you hurt and seethe and hate

Will you secretly resent me

Do you know I'll never be enough

to make you proud

to earn your trust

Do you solemnly swear to smash my open heart into

millions of little pieces

like it never even happened

You'll never understand

I'm sorry.

Handy Pocket

This handy pocket is for literature only.

Put your phone somewhere else.

Your dime store dive into crime and punishment is welcome here

Your wallet is not.

Your foray into transcendental tipping points and teachings from 'over there' would fit right in

Your snack wrappers will have to take up other space.

Please return your seat to its full upright position.

Are you ok?

I have a gaping wound in my chest.

but its cool

it's all good

Your trivial small talk staunched the bleeding

Your tourniquet of indifference was first aid 

just what I needed

I'm find now

I'll just sit here with this giant hole in my heart

It's fine. 

The starter novel

I want to write a starter novel.

A piece of literary fixer-upper. 

I'll shop it around, evaluate and appraise, have a hoard of well intentioned word-owners give their 2 cents. 

I want to write a starter novel.

The written word equivalent of a shared duplex, lived-in, renovated, but not too renovated. Never quite clean like it was, with a nice coat of paint. Cracks carefully hidden, leaking plot holes plastered over, "room to grow" they'll say.

My starter novel will leave me bitter. "I've been there" I'll say. I got my feet wet. Too wet. My start novel will leave me cynical. "You have no idea" I warn. My starter novel will leave me yearning. Brief flings with short fiction, a puff piece or two, but nothing will ever come close to that first bite, moving day, taste of the written word, still not convinced I'm not the imposter I think I am.

I want to write a starter novel. So I can know that I can do it. To pack a U-Haul with textual glory and say, "look out world, I have a voice."

Butter Notes

 

This is fine.

Flames, painted

 

This is a wonderful tool. Painting with particles, how epic!

https://www.escapemotions.com/products/flamepainter/about

A year of amazing growth, and amazing art