Stretching my fingers. Stretching my brain.

Testing the dexterity of these digits that haven’t been put to the daily grind of letters and words and sentences that transcribe the thoughts in my head. It has been a while where these free flowing thought are what they are. Free flowing. Thoughts.

I am always worried about finding something to talk about, something to write about. I am getting the creative juices again, thinking about new projects, new ideas and new scripts. I just need to stop being lazy and just do it. I need to change the way that I live and just be more active in the pursuit of these interests.

Do.

* * *

Change.

It comes slow, but it does come. It comes when it is ready. When there is a strong and united force that brings it on. Old thoughts slowly die as the new ones take its place. Change.

It’s a gradual process that doesn’t happen overnight. It’s slow, methodical, and sometimes it just explodes onto the scene.

Same Love.

Closer to equality. Closer to being the same. It is an idea that should have latched on so long ago, but it is sad that it has taken so long.

But it is here. A step closer to all. A step closer to equality.

No freedom till we’re equal. Damn right I support it.

* * *

Stirring. It stirs from within.

It ravages and howls with ravage intensity.

Its hunger surges through my body to take whatever it is that I can get for sustenance. It wants to devour all. Me

There’s a hunger for difference. There’s a hunger for a new status quo.

Change.

* * *

He drops.

His head cracks hard on the floor.

Everyone stops, not moving. They couldn’t do anything. It was a slow motion accident to them. All they can do is watch.

The howls of the boy blast through the little shop followed by the screams from his aunts, mother, and grandparents, in that order.

His mother reaches him first, picks him up and cradles him. She didn’t see it, but her sister did, the dark wet crimson that was on the ground. More hysteria.

All is quiet, but the soft whimpering of sobs.

* * *

I’m living on such sweet nothings.

I have run out of words to say. I have run out of thoughts to write about.

It has been really difficult to write much of anything. I have no idea why.

Is it because of the brain fog? No idea.