post winterson

come clarity

freedom of language

we had a discussion, we a.k.a the family, about what to do with all the property, plans for the future, apartment, money, yadayada. it should have left me relieved; instead it left me angry, upset, tears burning behind my eyes no,t with sorrow but with frustration.
went out for a run. angry music in my ears.
my pounding heart runs the feelings round and round my body. you ought to notice them, move them, or they will stay in one place, make it their home, and you will begin to rot, and the disease will spread.
the sweat is anger coming out of my pores. I wipe it away with the sleeve of my shirt.
I get in the car, my sweat turning into steam on the windscreen, drive to the shop where I think about the cashier, standing looking at her. so feminine, yet there is an obtrude masculinity about her. it fascinates me, my eyes enjoy it for the time it takes in the queue. then I drive home. now; room; the scent of washing not yet dry, the scent of strawberries, fresh.