Explore a face.
Mine reveals little.
This tired old mug:
to be endured.
Yet secrets remain.
I can’t help you with them.
are for spies.
The poem above was the last piece of writing from my teens.
Your comments are always welcome! 😊
Hope everybody is well? 🙏
(Any art or image on the blog is mine.)
Apologies if this post is less coherent than normal.
Disorientation prevents proper concentration and editing.
I’m really struggling, presently.
The virus, mentioned before, has flared up for a third weekend running.
(Assume it’s flu, but don’t understand why symptoms keep recurring, intead of easing?)
Feeling feverish, exhausted, and in great pain.
Very difficult sitting at my computer, or focussing on words.
Though I refuse to abandon blogging.
Starting to get anxious about the current situation.
Was too poorly for much shopping, during recent weeks.
Using limited reserves.
Venturing out midweek(after five days) I found supermarkets almost stripped of food.
Never seen anything like it.
Now I can’t restock.
I’ve largely been socially isolated for almost 30 years, due to chronic health problems. Going to the shops is the only place I regularly get near others.
Yet still catch colds and flu.
Buses are full of coughing people, all year round, in England.
( anxiety / art / blog / blogging / depression / life / mental health / photography / poem / poems / poetry / reading / thoughts / writing )