S.oc stands for ‘stream of consciousness’ writing. It’s a genre of creative writing that is unedited, free flowing, and barely punctuated. It’s also one of my favourite ways to write when I’m not in the mood to educate or explain anything for you, the reader. Prepare to step inside the interior of my subconscious.

tumblr_n6cavjTtlc1rnq3cto1_r1_500

Hide and seek, seek and find, welcome to destination subconscious mind. Think you’ll find when life unwinds, what’s yours is ours, what’s his was what was mine. Find yourself- seek truth out- excuse me when I clang and loudly shout. Anger ANGER un-concealed- smooth as slimy eels. Slip and slide like silken thread, wrapped round a cotton wheel inside your grandiose head. F.E.E.L the inner message, scribble your answer- eyes shut tight- conclude it’s best to hold tight to your dancer. The dancer here is the narcissist- fully know you get the gist, yet still you INSIST. Was wrong though to enlist for help- stroke victim better- sad dog yelps- victim cries “BOO HOO HOO”- deserve what comes arrow straight in the heart for you. Darts are fired, bullets are un-dodged- appears insight has somehow been dislodged. Splodge the inevitable mess with no messy apron-oops- you’re left with no barrier protection. General election-I pledge, elect NOT HIM- eat from your ‘have shit cake and eat it’ tin. Not a sin to distract or deny- understand harder to digest truth than man-meaty lies. Not up to me to despise those who sit in darkness and miss the freshness of sunrise. SummerSHINES while autumn stings; springtime blossoms while winter melencholically sings. Linger close to the source of pain- I’ll move away now if it’s all the same. I don’t choose pain. I choose living- learned you get hurt more if you over practise forgiving. Sieve the shit but it still slips all the way through- “no gold there” I tell you but it’s up to you. Time fully wasted- watered- down glue, brush the cracks together, cracks left un-pasted. Intuitive wisdom wasted. I’ve seen in happen many times before- the narcissist rules as victim trauma-bound to their whore. Here’s a rope- why not tie your own noose? – don’t be uptight- let it all hang out loose. Pointing fingers- patronise- shifty eyes- believe own self-taught lies. Still hear cries, not my problem now- no need to ask who, why, when, what and how. Glad I live in truth not bullshit. Good luck-hope you make it.

summerSHINES©

 

 

 

Advertisements