#quickpoetry

Who stepped into your bed

And while it was nice

The next morning I fled.

Enough with the excuses

Of rosé's and reds

The wandering mind

Can't flee what's been said.

Please darling,

My return to London, to my divided UK, beckons like an oncoming train.

I'm not thinking the same way I was when I left, not feeling the same way, not even living the same way

But I still wonder the same, still muse over the need for external validation, recognised value as a writer, as a human, as a friend

I'm clearer in my fundamentals, but they still worry me. And when I return, will they bother me? Will I bother with them? Am I tethered to them?

London has questions and deep seated answers that the faint hearted cannot fathom

If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere, because elsewhere is not as hard, not as taxing, not as diverse and strong willed and unpredictable as a purple moon

I wonder if I will trip over all the unfathomable, or skip through all the fun and wretch and memories of the me I was and who I am to become

Because my fundamentals stay the same, but I am always becoming. Aren't we all becoming?

Did I forget that lonely was an old friend?

That by myself was

Made for

Here for

By

Myself?

The curious stroll through social media apps

The search for the Tinder app I deleted

The viewing of everyone's Instagram stories

As if I think I'll find life in those things

Sometimes I wake up and do it and think out loud

"What the hell are you looking for in there?

Nothing that you misplaced can be found in these pages of code and electricity and the world wide web of it all."

How could I forget that I created all the lonely I'm ever going to need

Ever going to want and desire and resent and despise.

Attributed to diagnosis

Brought often in late spring

Clearly

            Directly

                        Estimated to be

Factors of illness

Greatly cause internal

Health decline

Immune to physical evolution

Join discussion for fewer storms,

Lies we authored,

Mismanaged medicines; mortality rates

Never revealed

Other

Physical symptoms

Questioning

Realities spread

Surrounding mental illness

Timelines weakened by disease

Unknown and invisible,

View seriously only too late

Winds

Expected

Yearning to blow

woke up this morning drowning in the clouds