It's been a week since I've written.
Inside there's a feeling of an imploding heart.
Collapsing into itself.
I look towards skyscape.
Up on cloud castles.
And wonder if I will one day live up there.
Where I look down on emotions, that grip us like vines.
And dragging me down to the earth.
Finally when I'm able to see everything
not just the streets ahead
but the words yet to be spoken
the caresses yet to uncurl from my arms...
when i can do that...
i wonder if that's what life up there is like.
I've been having a difficult time
getting out of bed
and getting anywhere...
i hope that anything i do here
day to day
actually
does
something
for someone
a sigh that comes
from deep inside my gut
erupts like a bellow yelp or scream
am i in a dark dreary dream?
and the only thing
that lifts me
is the scent
of chocolate
and flowers
the smell
of comfort
of love
and
memories
of being
in the arms
of reassured
warm
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speaking of dark and dreary I decided to treat myself to Maple Syrup.
So I took some stale rye bread and dipped it in beaten egg (add dash of sugar and salt and pepper and milk).
Fried it, topped with Maple Syrup.
Maple is such a wonderfully toffee-esque caramel even smoky flavours coursing through it.
We're accused all the time of being animals for anything related to blood.
Yet think nothing of drinking the 'blood' of this maple tree - which is what the syrup is; the lifeblood that runs through the bark trunk leaves of this mighty plant.
It's something vegans can now agonise over too.
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