Free Play : Day 3 #100daysofwriting

In a way I shouldn't even address the fact that sometimes I write dark, twisted, sad things. I'm writing, expressing, twisting words and enjoying it. I have frustration in my body, mind and soul - I do not have romance... So it would be contrived to write a love poem. I am tired of the romancing of love. Love songs sound hollow. Am I depressed? No. I'm just not in a romantic dream world. Things around me are not miserable, but they are hard and practical. Pain and exhaustion sit on my shoulders.

But to please some people I will now attempt a nice poem, although not in iambic pentameter.

NICE POEM

A little frog
Sits upon a log
Contemplating love
And the sky above

The rolling fog
Covers his bog
And hides the dove
His symbol of love

Now little frog
From the bog
Has lost his love
The gorgeous dove

OK I tried, it still came out dark.

Crash. - Day 2 #100daysofwriting

Crawling up my bonnet
Boots crunch
Gravel against glass
Face up
Back down
Scream out
Rain pelts down
Soaking me to my soul
Wet dissolves fabric
Flesh to metal
Freezing
Shivering
Screaming
The sky is a horrible colour
Drained of love
Drained of purpose
Stars are hidden
Rain falls
Face up
Back down
Screaming
On the top of my lungs
Top of my car
The edge of my world
My mind
My tether
Missing you isn't even it
I loathe you
My blood screams
I want you
I hate you
I need you
Both comforter and executioner
Crawling
Screaming
Soaking
Lying
Words pound
Worlds crash
Blood screams
Boots crunch
Rain pours

The Cat's Meow - Day 1 #100daysofwriting

There is something about a blank page, blank screen, flashing cursor, naked line screaming for content. Break the seal, crack the glass, rip the bandaid off and write. So on with the first of 100 daily posts.
 

I have a cat, Arizona, who I haven't written much about on the blog, although she is one of my favourite photographic subjects on Instagram. She is my baby, my daughter, my comfort, my companion and my little muse. Yes, muse in the sense of I can't stop taking photos of her but in another way too. I got sober on 5 October 2013 and Arizona was born three days later. She is a type of symbol, talisman, and my new vice. I run up the stairs to my flat when I get home to scoop her up in my arms. She has the softest fur I've ever felt and I bury my face in her warmth.
 

My brother says that cats only meow at humans. Arizona is very communicative. This morning I realise that she has me wrapped around her perfect little claw.  When I answer her meow I am not just a crazy cat lady, I can actually understand her!  There is the "Where are you?", the "Feed me!", the "Let me into the bathroom" and then this little "purp" sound, like a chirp that she mostly uses on my brother which I guess means "what up?".
 

I still maintain I'm not touched in the brain. Promise.