roaming searching scratching
depths underneath
headstrong cowardly
lost found

i’ve arrived at a destination and found that there’s a bloody

long path stretching out again. this path is a bit rougher.

tumbling in the surf
gasping for breath
swimming to the surface
sucked back down again
no more floating on your back for YOU miss leonie

trying to be conscious, trying to be grateful.

i read poetry and it makes sense
even when there is no sense at all.

i write poetry and it isn’t good poetry
but it is MY poetry dammit
it can be what it wants to be
at least i wrote it.
at least i formed the words
at least i stretched down that far to try to find them.

i find myself at moments that i have dreamt of before
but the fears that i didn’t dream of are still there.

it’s funny. how we place worth on what people say as the total context for whom they are. their whole entity. even when words are said only in the moment. moments pass. they always do.

and this funk of mine. yup. it’ll turn from funk to funky and it will put on colourful shoes and trollop down the street singing ladeedah.

but for now,
i am overwhelmed. exhausted. a fiesty scaredy-cat.
i feel all teen-angsty even when I’m no longer a teen.

and for the first time in a long time, i’ll post this without an image. because my words are worth it.

the moment passed.