Got his fedora on
with it’s ostrich plume
He’s a jaunty chap
He has the pick
From all the chicks
Cuz he’s just chill
And full of tricks
So as they say don’t come knockin’
When that caravan is rockin’
Inane or insane: General enquiries that turn into in(s)ane ramblings.
Hello, I was just wondering if it’s possible to change from printed subscription to digital subscriptions only? Also are your magazines recyclable? I ask because I wish to recycle old issues as I’m conscious of space. Though they might make some money on a 4D antique show when I’m long, long dead after a long lost celebrity ‘cousin’ happens to end up on ‘who do you think you are?’ and looks into my sad little life and finds my magazines, I don’t really care for making fortunes or for hoarding for the time being either. I duly hope that they are recyclable (This is a lie my hope for it being recycliable is not to appropiate levels at all, it’s bordering insane. Insane needs to sort it’s borders out so that us sane folk can’t get in) after all, your publication is about the natural world, and I like to think you care enough to make those glossy pages of birds with their bright breasts as environmentally friendly as possible.
Yours faithfully (Thats a lie, I don’t do faith. I’m an extremely paranoid person. Please don’t blacklist me)
Matt.
GTOL: Ego
GTOL (Gorilla thinks out loud)
There is no one more egotistical than those who claim to be killing their ego’s.
Empty space
Tethered to this space
The dripping of a tap
echoing time
Like a clock
But not fixed to chime
On the hour
Of every wasted moment
Just a drip of
Nothingness encapsulated
In baubles of water
Till it crashes down
Reminding us of being mortal
QFF: Why do you follow me?
Hello readers.
I hope you’re all okay.
QFF (Question for followers), why did you click the follow button?
I’m curious.
Sunday Wordle: The village
The village swallowed you whole
And you became strangers
To the tribe you used to know
Even the best friends
As you spat on your hands and shook
A promise of brotherhood
Now everything quakes
In the balance
You thought friendship
Was made in stone
Your pride is hard to swallow
When your undoing was your own
Now you’ve a heart shaped hole
Waiting on the beating
Of another
“I will not,”
What is between the words will and not
is it an empty space
where in time you will soon be caught?
Did you protest enough before tying that knot?
Hanging loosely around your neck
In case you forgot
Was the floor beneath their feet an afterthought?
