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almosthinged.bsky.social
Faking my way through adulthood.
156 posts 20 followers 16 following
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Early winter frosts. The mulberry is fruiting. Gift of life, or death?

A writing day gone And nothing written again. Just as expected.

Another haiku. Another saccharine song Of hope I'll forget.

Third day of winter And I'm ready for summer. But the world needs rest.

Unfolding palm frond, Insectine accordion Breathing the green night.

Pride Month started with a giant space rainbow. Fucken oath. 🌈

The night is on fire. Cold fire like a southern wind, Green as a sapling.

Sunset-stained cascade. All those golden days of growth Tumbling, falling.

Let's start the month with some feet pics from a cute bird.

The ocean's surface Isn't measured at wavetop, But the highs do count.

It's silly how ev ery line I want to write is One syllable too

Growing for the sun, It breaches the canopy, Its roots now laid bare.

I waited for him And he went off without me Like i knew he would.

Motivation is Like a sorcerer's spell slots. I don't have any.

There is a season. But sometimes that season is Unseasonable.

Half-written stories, So many threads to pull on. My gift to myself.

Two stars used to shine, Glimmering on golden hair, A long time ago

The big things matter But it's the little actions That add up the most.

Raindrops on the tin Recall hot coffees, old books, A gut-wrenching flood.

I'm sick as a dog But there's a frog in our drain So I'll be okay.

Some conversations Are like swimming in a rip. Go sideways or drown.

I'm sick of speaking While people shout over me To say that they hear.

The bouncing lantern, The house's steady heartbeat Keeping us alive.

The drone of traffic Like insects in late summer. Annoying comfort.

A bear claws itself. "It's warm, there's berries all round. I wasted winter!"

High above the world Watching all that he isn't. Silent contentment.

Tiny feet stagger. The stride lengthens, running now. Then staggering ends.

I made a mistake. But a bear didn't eat me, So thumbs-up for that. 👍🏽

We'll marvel at it Like we do Afghanistan. "Look how free they were."

Sleekly feathered head Bobbing to its own rhythm, Calling home the grey.

"She talks to wild birds like they're people," my neighbour gossips to his chooks.

How is gardening A hobby for old people? Every muscle hurts.

Candles, each of us. And until we burn out, gods - What beautiful light!

I'm not giving up. I will sink this whole damn cost Straight into the grave.

The star-dowser sits, Whiskered beak preening heaven's Cloud-ruffled abyss.

What could be cuter Than a googly-eyed snail Munching on a leaf?

Somewhere out in space A postcard: "wish you were here." We read eagerly.

We see each other And see ourselves reflected. Were we always blind?

I grow more like her, But with every passing year She's further away.

When I'm next alive I'd like to be a bear, but What would a bear be?

An izakaya, Two friends, two beers, two hours, And too many laughs.

I was an adult. I got groceries AND washed up. Isn't that enough?

Some people inspire curiosity. Like the elderly gentleman, impeccably dressed in a light blue linen suit, who was frantically sorting through a full trolley-load of bucket hats, wearing an expression that suggested one of them might have taken his keys.

"I have nothing left." I say this night after night, Then get up again.