I don’t exist

 I'm back from a place that I don't exist. An alien world just six hours away. Where I am wrong, my thinking is wrong, desires wrong, self wrong.

To think of your soft skin feels wrong and to wonder what is behind your smile, wrong.

A place where the bond between women, us, is as apparent as the trunk of a large tree growing in your living room. Platonic love, intense relay emotions, live, genuine, love.

We sleep on the same mattress and wake up in the same space. 

Once upon a time, an age and a place ago. She spoke out and made herself heard. That's when I'm told she broke the world and it's been going downhill from then on.

Is not reality an abstract thing, 

what's true for me is bizarre to you? Today I sit in a trendy bar, 

a fancy glass filled with the amber brew. 

Forty eight days and eight hours later, an amber brew? 

A woman alone!

Wrong,

WRong,

WRonG,

WRONG,

The ruination of the female population! 

Ancestors re-rotting in their graves,

As all decry generational curses,

An obvious decline of sacred traditions.

Colonial programming or globalisation made to measure.

For the majority are the most divine.

Reality is as defined.

Before the questions what was I?

Blank screen, no words

why try, who cares?

Sometimes you can feel it bubbling,

Periphery glimpses a trick of the light,

just at your tips, it's almost there,

Push too hard

And

POP! 

it's gone 

Do you remember the urge to purge

to make the words, a phrase, a balm to soothe,

Cool the turmoil, 

Chaotic mind, 

before admiration sours the conscious soul,

As external acclaim haunts every minutiae,

loose your you, before you know it ,

you're bland, afraid and second guessing,

Wheels across my arms while I sleep,

It’s a toy car.

That wet drop I feel,

I bet it’s slobber. 

They call for me like a persistent siren, 

no place is safe not even the loo.

I jump out of my skin every time they wail, trying to decode the gibberish they speak.

Are you;

Ill?

Cold?

Hungry?

Do your diapers need a change?

Oh you’re making up a song 🎵 

Well done, that’s Good.

“Carry me!”

“Carry me!”

The soundtrack of my dreams.

Ever since you came into my life,

I can barely touch my toes.

Don’t touch! 

Get down! 

Leave it!

Hot! Hot!

The tiny voice replies with glee,

“No!”

“No!”

“No!”

“No!”

Said with relish, you three foot being. 

I’ve got shoes older than you, you cheeky one

and chasing you around the bed to get dressed might be fun for you,

but not me. 

And then they smile or say something precious,

My heart melts. 

And off they go again!

Don’t touch! 

Get down! 

Leave it!

Hot! Hot!

Danger ⚠️ 

I’ve got bags under my eyes because sleep is scarce,

And can’t wait to return to work, 

for a holiday.