What good is it to write words that do not feel.
Words must reach out and touch you.
Touch your flesh, your nape, your lips.
Ruffle through your hair.
Fingers across a cheek, a nipple, around an areola over bumps.
Slither down the middle of the back, touch the wrinkles of foreskin,
brush the goosebumps on an arm. If you don't feel the words, what good are they anyway?
Today is cold and too treacherous to venture out. This photo was not taken today as I have only left the house to take the dogs out back.
This is the kind of day to write and drink coffee. The kind of day to cur up with a good book. The kind day for soup or beans or chilli.
Id ike to say Ive written something profound but I don't think that I've reached that point yet, but I will be back at work shortly looking for the right words to fill my pages.
Michael Allyn Wells - notes & musings