Escape?
Let me out. Now..
50. Lives in Oxfordshire. Married. Four kids. Loves life and rocks.
Let me out. Now..
Ambushed by a mass of fur. With voice that sounds more like a whirr. I'm forced to follow to keep the peace. And rummage to find things to eat. Then stillness from the furry maw.
My shadow likes to laugh and sing. He likes to do most anything. He likes to play amongst the mud and leaves. And come back home with Dirty sleeves. He likes to read and stay up late.
It has been suggested that blogging can be part of therapy. So here is my bid to get back to normality..
My speech is slurred and slow. My balance is no more. My vision is completely blurred. Don't walk on past with complete distain and say there's another drunk.
The sun creeps over the dark horizon. Spreading gold across the sky. The woods and fields start to bustle onward with the busyness of life. The dreaming spires which slumbered softly.
Words dance swirl and collide in my mind. I see Endless sparkling conversations. You speak and I reply. A single word fished out from treacle. An island in in a wordless sea.