Patchwork

Fuck convention...
Say goodbye.

When I still could string a few sentences together. As her birthday comes up. Hoping to have this made into a poster or something.
You weren’t there; when the storm drove the demons forth into the light and the air was rent with pain and celebration.
When else could such a tempest be followed by such joyous pleasure? Perhaps only on the day angels knew you were forged has my inner heart known such happiness; but until then, not my conscience....

My Xhosa name six.
Mainly because I share it with snot-nosed toddlers.
And idiot teens.

A gift that keeps giving.
I spend a fair amount of time organising my closet. I like it neat and orderly.
Then I wake up late, have to rush around and the act of pulling a T-shirt can undo then entire organization of said closet.