Brewing from frustrations, bulking out minutes, hours, days with thoughts of ‘fuck this!’ You know the kind, we all know.
Ah but what moments of brilliance it brings, to shatter guarded routine and sever truth from damnation.
How much I love the heat of annoyance plaguing morning disappointments, disappointed about nothing in particular but that’s where brilliance dwells.
Vapours coat such disappointments, handed over are medicinal pills to swallow whole.
Breathe in memorable scents of enough is enough.
Trepidation crumbles, ingenious movements possess us, leading us to countless discoveries.
See, where would we be without ‘Fuck this’?
From stillness, those nights when anxieties sweat onto fresh cottons, those days we imprint disaster before the clouds break and dawn freshens the foulness. How invaluable such moments, as what inventions would have pulsed into existence without common frustrations of the everyday?
Stand to attention!
Called to listen when no longer the mundane tickles our tones, the soundtrack to our life is flippin’, side A to B.
If we behave the way we’re told, goodness, what prisoners we’d be. Prisoners to others caged sentences, paragraphs to mould the wounded, slicing flesh with manipulative intentions.
They may have their intentions but my edges ain’t cut to fit their puzzle, I’ll carve my own.
And how brilliant I feel to cross the line, to show impatience and rip the pretty ribbon.
Frustrations burn too hot to stand ridged.
NOW, it’s time and I’ll dance my way. Shoes tapping noisily, marking pavements with excited skips and lightness of swing.
Yes, the time is now so thank you frustrations for your poker fingers, shuffle the cards and deal me what ya got.
Fuck this, I’m ready for new.