Sleeping alone with so much intrusion – child born of good intentions awash in a trail of barricades I cope, cook up breezes, strike wet

Sleeping alone with so much intrusion – child born of good intentions awash in a trail of barricades I cope, cook up breezes, strike wet
Sporting crisply pressed regrets and tight-assed judgments, the past happened upon me, caught me mid-mediocracy, eye-balled me with a sneer, and then strolled on by
A wounded creature, I circle the pack; A laggard seeking inroads, missing cues; A social wanna be without the smack – This fogged state a
The initial spoonful – salted caramel cool – consoles bitten tongue, slides down burning throat: appeasement for churning gut. Each spoonful savoured sweetness countering bile,
Thought I’d divorced myself from indifference, recovered from abject betrayal, but; here I am, co-habiting with deceit again, occupying uneven ground, reduced to questioning motives
Pride hounds sneaky, invasive ugly determination guards a conception family, grandchildren, a portrait of comfort disregards treacherous likeness to poisonous histories, past loathing offender venomous
-daya bhat-
Fairy Tales, Micropoems, and Images by Peter Ellis
Focusing on the beauty. Zooming in on love.
Slow, raw and chaotic. A personal account.
books, writing, farm, travel, family, coffee, outdoors
"Surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off." Prov. 23:18
Throwing my soul into the cosmos.
Never placed, but who’s counting?
Verse from an adverse mind.
All pictures taken with Phone📱
Life and love along the way...
my humanity in written form
sharing the stories of interconnection