I’m much too weak
To don this mask of manhood
I am much too angry
To be fueled by something good
I wish I could say I’d grown up
But I’m only here for the sake of showing up
Wordle: No justice
Facing the worlds brutality
Standing after the scorn
Donning masks of clarity
So it looks like I’m weathering the storm
But these digs
At my sanity
Have let me see
The need for justice
That cannot be born
In(s)ane enquiries that turn into in(s)ane ramblings
Hello, firstly I’d like to compliment your annual publication received by us tenants. It has the kind of smell I enjoy from reading material. May I ask what paper & ink combination you use for such a scent?
I am fully aware not many people will admit to being page sniffing connoisseurs, and so this question may seem strange, but I figured we all gotta live sometimes, right? Some of my friends go skydiving and boring things like that. I suppose if we could combine sniffing books and other reading material with skydiving maybe I’d give it a go. But I presume when falling from such a height and your face is flapping in the wind that the laws of physics would have it so you couldn’t smell much anyway.
As for the building and the flat I live in I have no major complaints. I guess one issue would be a preference for more soundproofing so that the neighbours can’t hear me maniacally laughing and crying simultaneously. All my neighbours roll their eyes at such occurrences in the knowledge I’ve seen myself in the mirror again, I know they roll their eyes because I keep catching them as they roll under my door. I have since put a draft excluder at my door to prevent them getting under, it seems to do the trick. It’s ironic though as if there were a war I still wouldn’t need a draft excluder because I’d be excluded from the draft because of my mental instability anyway.
Yours faithfully
Matt
P.S Please get back to me about the ink & paper combination.
Sunday wordle: Man wears a fedora with a feather, he gets the chicks
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?
