A grey sweatshirt and a pair of nice jeans

It was that easy. My colourful mood of the last couple of hours was brushed away with easy strokes of apologies. Its insane. I melted without even the first brushing of skin. It took them hours to achieve that previously. Now its seconds. I can stare at that countenance and want to jump start...

Somewhere along the line of crossed t's and dotted i's, I have come undone. Happily. With the exception of tonight, where my carefully daydreamed plan was thwarted by the realities of the careless one making merry with the phone buzzing in the car, I am unfrazzled. It is what it is. The small sightings of sap green become sappy deductions and leave me satisfied.

That is not to say that the cold shrapnel of exploding mind mines do not penetrate through the day.

I still have submissions; there are still friends who need assuaging; friends who need side-lining; work that needs to be sought out; chasms between knowledge that need bridges; bio-diversity, ethno-diversity, emo-diversity, all waiting to be untangled and a healthy heart to be carved from underneath the fat. Yep, the shrapnel still zings, yet somehow, at times, this slightly dotty joy of what is rather than what could/ should be is a more powerful salve than reason.

Though not more potent than the morphine-esque effect of pheromones combined with the smell of the morning after.

Dialing, connecting the line...yes Big Man, I still want to keep the standing order of a tall drink of dark chocolate. What? No, I don't mind if it gets too bitter at times, as long as you are there to wipe the dribble.