Beginnings of March

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Alice

Down down down the rabbit whole I go…… I see the rope, my hands slips and I dip even further in this abyss.  Write write write that’s the rope I see, that’s the one I reach holding tight with all this might trying to pull myself up through words on paper see my mind waver scary sight indeed. 

Trees dripping ink, if I come to close… my dress! What a mess.. are those birds I see or squiggly lines, no their words painted on the sky. Positivity, love, joy, laughter, are all written in tiny words but wait they are birds…… fantastic, I like it here. I think Ill stay maybe for day or two I see why Alice loves it here, she may just have a neighbor near.

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What!

To you my ears, your attention on me. Your decision…is it good or bad or just what? What!

Its me. Its my heart, my mind, my fears, my laughs, my tears that your listening to. 

Waiting to judge….well good luck!

I write for me…for my soul.  I love words, their meanings endlessly provocatively captivatingly real. 

They are real.  Tangible to me. Owned by me,  written by me,  and yes also for you.                           

Perhaps they will make you feel my sorrow or my fear but most importantly they may make 

you feel anything that’s real to you. 

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