feels contrived and probably is

what could i want to say now

already thinking it through too much

don't want a memoir

don't want an epistolary

definitely not a diary

just thoughts streaming

running

crawling

sleeping

so i can observe the inside of a head

words       pictures       ideas that fill and filter

i think i shall return later

(is this how you thought it would be?)

it's a bit like watching myself in a mirror

bathing

or on the loo

or having sex

maybe it'll get better over time

listen to covid news

laugh at the neighbourhood watch safety group

someone made a covid comment

it went downhill from there

men complaining mostly

yes i see why

they go on and on and on some more about the same thing

each commenting      blindly negative

each one the only adam

i can see this becoming a diary living faithfully in my drafts

(how can one write on nothing?)

sounds like a waste of something

seems i cannot get past myself either

even in the bathroom

even in the bedroom

(i rode my bicycle past your window last night)

seasofme200621