The Bloody Doors Off

The light
Begin to bleed
Begin to breathe
Begin to speak
D’you know what?
I love you better now

I am falling
Like a stone
Like a storm
Being born again
Into the sweet morning fog

D’you know what?
I love you better now

I’m falling
And I’d love to hold you now
I’ll kiss the ground
I’ll tell my mother
I’ll tell my father
I’ll tell my loved one
I’ll tell my brothers
How much I love them

The Morning Fog, Kate Bush

I’ve been stuck on this for half an hour.

What to talk about.

Like my short plays, I seem to be running out of ideas.

Trying not to repeat myself.

I need inspiration.

Between the teeth and the scam.

I’m struggling to catch my breath.

Metaphorically.

I can’t even find a proper ending to this post.