Name me.
Siphon my essence with your ego.
Define my self by your own terms.
Your words are my pages,
Hands on my clay,
Drawing me, forcing me, filling me up.
But words are just ink to be washed from my skin,
Clay can be thrown and smoothed.
My terms are my own,
Rejecting formality,
My personal chaos swirls round my name.
My name.
WhatWhyHow???
This year, I set myself the foolish task of trying to write something every day, and what you see here is the result. None of this is finished, polished, or in any way good. It's usually a few lines at the end of the day when I'm tired, my head's broken, and this nonsense spills out of it onto the page. Feel free to comment away, and if you think anything has any potential then let me know and I might have a go at working on it further.
But hang on, where's the first month? You've ripped us off! I hear you say... Well, yes. I have been writing since the beginning of January, but it's taken me a while to get the blog up, so everything here is a month old.
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