as time passes and I change,

Who I am today is

Who am I tomorrow?

Was that me before?

Only a capitalist is concerned with productivity.

I don’t make things, I try new things

I don’t perfect things, I make flawed things

I do them badly, gladly

full of glee at how bad I am.

It begins with a slight release

Where do they come from? I hear them in my voice in my head. But I don’t think they come from me.

feeling it in my body

Breaking down

into painful little bits,

shifted, sorted, stacked

something new entirely

this time,

without lack.

I make things for me, on my timeline.

I am in no rush.

And not trying to prove anything.

Mo Money Mo Problems

fuck off telling me how to talk

This wave of sadness is one I’ve surfed before.

Just breathe, allow the movement to move me.

I will not drown if I let go and float.

Peer into the shadow, search for the lesson.

The Danky Bum is my man

The Danky Bum is Peggy Pam

He likes to sing and loves to play

Finding breadcrumbs everyday.