Nght and Day

So here we are. In bed with a turquoise fluffy hot water bottle and clean cotton bedding. In a room with a wooden table by the window and stripy colourable table cloth for eating at, for doing homework and hopefully soon for Us to colour or paint or write at with a trailing plant in a patterned purple pot hanging in macramé above it. We are in a seaside town in Northern England where people smile and say Hi and no one has spit or at either me or the child yet as far as we have noticed where we read Virginia Woolf and scour Netflix in flesh with it's contracting uterus, drippy urethra, aching locking knees and badly scarred arms, smoking habits despite wheezing lungs making sure we stay grounded in violent realities that our mind keeps mostly hidden whilst she slowly exposes the events she needs recognised the most, the times of enforced immobility that we needed to be escped to be survivable.

At long last the phone very rarely rings or peeps and we don't have pretend to that the people constructed to make and keep me broken are family. We don't have pretend all the murders never happened we don't have to tolerate people who tortured and killed the only person we ,have ever be close to calling us by her name. It goes on in our dreams just as the American's still support genocide but they don't call their stolen land a beckon of hope like they used to. While the empowered British and swaves of the hungry and hateful population have given up pretending they having souls, intellects or consciouses anymore. Tearing each others throats out in fights over scraps that fall from the tables and attacking the source of any suggestion that they deserve better than scraps and kickings while licking the grease of the hands of those that take everything from them. The sick old man ranting over the garden fence about slaughtering innocents to punish us for surviving what he couldn't and for enjoying the sunshine, Johnson, Trump, Putin, Erdogan  and all are the shades of Fascist leaders everywhere are all the same machine, the same flesh, same brain, same hardware and same software that can't learn, can't interpret, cant cognate, their senses are pretend, painted on, connected to nothing.

People are stamping on the breaks and pulling on steering wheels after cutting the cables because they were told it would stop someone their own direction in life it didn't occur they would ever be in danger of becoming a smudge on a tree themselves. We were never allowed in the driving seat or even a verbal passenger but still we could do without more noise and more mess and would rather hug trees not lathered in fossil fuels and spattered with human grease. We've seen that already and have nothing more to learn from it.



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