dear-one

Dear Diary,

Dear dear sweet diary I love you. Don’t know if you like me, hate me, know me, care or feel anything at all. Don’t care.

You allow other lovers without complaint. The unlined composition books that facilitate dream access. Works of Jean Genet who made crime and cocksucking holy and other authors are one way relationships as those books are not receptive not the way you are.

When noone’s reading you do you make a sound? Yes you do. You made sounds while I was aiming to listen to the thump of my heartbeat in the 280 degree sauna. Aiming to stop being fucking Mike or even Michael and just be and ideally beyond that to not be. You come dancing and dangling around.

You have no responsibility for it though. It is me. It is me and there is a third one of us here the reader. Hi, reader. I appreciate you. Don’t know how diary feels about you, how you feel about you or even how Rivka feels about you. Rivka probably loves you. Unless you’ve crossed a line in which case big whoops.

It is seven am. Rikki is making espresso number two in the fake copper turkish coffee pot, which will be mixed with raw milk, hot water and sugar or honey. I drink a mixture of medicinal herbs including mate, which probably isn’t too medicinal and more for a lift. Being off of cheese and most dairy has made the redness in the old face disappear.

30/05/2024