Category Archives: STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS COLLECTION
the You! fallacy
THE YOU! FALLACY
Just jotting my thoughts. I’ve been prompted to make a complaint.
little four eyes when you were half your current size -why did you doubt yourself so?
Looking back to a densely plotted past – hazy.
What would you have done knowing all people doubt themselves even if it means you becoming the foe?
‘Have no regrets’ – the tagline of the present.
no regrets, no regrets, no regrets.
When you are looking at granny in a catatonic state, unable to walk or talk. Fragments of images of people now gone, tell me you won’t wonder how life would have played out by taking assertive bets.
Complaints department – sizable queue.
What can we do to answer people’s feuds?
Create a passage for people to commit to taking responsibility for themselves, sign that in ink and wrangle with their own moods.
well…… the list unfolds until it reaches the flaws of flooring.
Fingers pointing in every direction. Buckle up, prepare to look within and see how far you can go when you begin to see only you can change your state of deploring.
Control comes not from puppeteering others. Cut loose – let the strings fall.Let people walk,
hell! let them figure it out- leave them to crawl.
Worry about how you are going to make it. What you need to do to advance in the dance – motions to elevate and bypass the savage instinct to maul.
How many complaints is your God of choice dealing with?
in Her brassic attempt to fulfil everyone’s wish
Did it ever occur to you to get off your indignant knees to check out the employment vacancies for extras needed to help your God succeed in appetising your particular dish?
Stop giving control to others to fix your problems. You have a brain, how much has been wasted?
Think of the energy and time used in a futile attempt to get people to see your view,
the moment before the curtains go down you have become the finale unstitched, obtusely basted.
What do you do to make this world a better place?
What do you do to help us people stay in the race with human grace?
Life is never going to get easy – you’re never going to be 100% fulfilled. There will always be a doughnut sized whole to fill.
Do you even know what it is you need to fix yourself? In monetary terms, you will have to pay for your own self- advocacy bill.
Money, time and energy well spent making you a person who can figure out how to make sense.
Dig deep and take a deep breath- Don’t be afraid to be a master of your own success.
To run away from your potential achievement will be your greatest offence.
The unsensational one dimensionals
The pain inside me remains the real deal
It’s a tragedy how I only cruise on wordpress when I have tears dripping onto the steering wheel.
The journey that promotes me to tap away is always inspired by an ill gotten day.
Deal with the past. It’s too easy to blame.
I swear, I look forward.
Stand up for where I go wrong and who I maim.
Revolving doors of asylum, inpatient wannabe beauticians.
Incredulous that my own mother
beaten by her lovers and suffered her own ills.
Thinks its better to throw me behind the institution with E.C.T. waves and the barbed wire.
Jesus had a crown of thorns – aesthetically cruel in their Romanic decisions.
It’s a loop on a loop.
more drama –
every week its the same song coming out in different shade of blue.
This won’t disappear by erasing my face from your mind.
My child is my glory.
You wonder why i can’t take this lying down?
instead I give you the flamboyant, cussation sign
Call the crisis team.
We live in a Theresa May ,Tory sperm infested government.
I’m not suicidal.
I’m not drinking
I’m not overdosing
Not taking drugs.
Merely holding myself at a metaphorical gunpoint.
I want to protect my family from the inner Iago in me.
Deceives and twists all the good my heart seeks to see.
A mighty herculean -blinded by rage.
Numbers are his torment – he looks to them like riches dripped in gold.
an obssesive compulsive disorder compells him to have less –
It must be all light and sage.
Alone , i wake up to the sound of silence.
No daughter to say good bye to ,
no husband plodding about drinking coffee and watching QI on rinse.
In Africa I would be welcomed for my rise in weight.
I’m not in Africa.
I’m in a mind fed on media, with distorted ideas about what to look like.
Social media , I hate.
Insight is a curse -Ignorance is bliss.
Two weeks away from my deadline.
Post graduate, Daisy willows , in the Humanities
I should be riding out to the ocean to collect my sun’s kiss.
I feel like I’m there for everyone- I listen to their woes.
I jump up and celebrate every time they make a success of their lives.
They shine so bright – I call them my ‘little twinkle toes’.
I know I shouldn’t expect,
then I wouldn’t ‘t get disappointed.
I keep up appearances until the night terrors pull me out of my bed, torture me under veiled sight.
filled with infected cuts and perceptions line up disjointed.
I’m not the only one who doesn’t have a family!
So, why do you get the hump when i have no other alternative but to call up the family intervention team?
I want my daughter to grow up without these bouts of fits & confusion.
the cycle of poorly managed mental health to skip a generation .
Enough with another ‘daughter following in her mother’s steps’ delusion.
There is more to the back lash of her tounge and callous remarks than plain old wickedness.
We are a narrative of complex emotions bound up, in a body of flesh and bones.
look beyond your eye line fall.
Seek and you will find a person who is not transparent -less.
Sick of seeking approval from social media one dimensional folk.
Cull the people who can’t see it for what it is.
it’s beyond a joke.
Cutting down on so called friends.
re catagorise my means to justify making ethical ends.
People see right through you
Unless your name is printed in black and white.
The best stars shine and go about unseen,
making wishes of hope seem bright.
Her rage tips over the sides – the current for those who get credit for being generico stereotype.
It’s all hype.
they barely even look alive.
I want justice.
I want the people who make a difference
to get credit where its due.
I’ve had enough of this fake bakery .
Diabetic shots brings out the bad assery in me.
I’m done with pretentious folk .
Emotional vampires who expect.
Because they think they precribe the ideal look.
Its sad, a shame.
Don’t get caught up in the superficial.
Remember, reality goes way past the fantasy of this screen.
Cos we naturally wired to be a human being.
We need to communicate
Technology has purpose – it’s not for living life in a kumbaya state.
So many lies,
people all have ties
That keep them reaching out for 39p tissues.
I’m here for authenticity.
Denounce those who I see,
in all their duplicity.
I can’t be good and kind to all that seek attention.
How tragic is this situation?
Goodbye to many of you.
who will never wake from your boggled eyed fallacy.
I don’t do this out of spite or even maliciously .
I see clearly what and who holds me back.
My sole purpose is to stay on track.
So good bye to some of those
I’ve met on my path
Good luck with your life and everything that comes with decisions aftermath.
I aint got no more energy for you.
My people, my life needs my attention. Arrears paid up –
Mini life update 14 days until I hand in my End Of Module assessment for year one of my Masters. 😛
I will have a post graduate certificate in the Humanities 😛🤓🤓
I have news….
A director (not name dropping) wants me to send him my script about the homeless couple.
I don’t think Im going to……..
Or maybe I should …..
I don’t know.
I’ve never thought I was a good enough writer to see my work brought to life.
It”s scary to think that success is possible.
Rejection is normal, but the more I distance myself from the people in my life who made/make me feel shit about myself, and my abilities, and my sense of belonging; the more I meet people who see the good in me .
I don’t want to feel like shit around people.
So, I would rather be surrounded by a small number of those who are true and think I’m cool ish 😎😉.
Let the rest of world get their claws out in their need for attention, and to be heard.
Life is a blessing already
One thing is for sure. I will never work for fame. I will always work for justice and what is right.
I’m struggling, but never will I give up or give in.
This heart beats.
These eyes have fire behind them
OTHER WORDLY .
Unfathomable to relate how a portrait of an unaffected cherub
a forgotten dimension to
the paradigm LONER.
PENSIVE – angelic eyes
unfreeze momentarily — expressions animate the oil painted canvas.
Voice barely audible -mouths out to me
Who is this new persona?
Blood of my labour sworn to tell the gospel TRUTH.
Astonished -wrinkles crease — at time ‘s wildfulness to penetrate her innocence—
She’s not looking back at her youth.
The cycle continues-
Elders blame the outsider for a lack of faith in conventional —Spirituality.
ELDER peers down through an intoxicating incensed haze.
Measure me up.
Squares me up.
On humble grounds
I stand a full head above her broad shoulders.
Closer to her divine maker
pious prayers hail down
the blame game
the name game.
Tortured soul seeker
Scarpers for the licks of hell’s flames.
trips over underwood
poltergeists log a strategic placed guilt ambush
rotting the core of this circle of life’s CONTINUITY.
Time will decide whether we are cosmic twins born 3 decades APART.
This is her descent to destiny .
roughly sketched into this world-
pallid , charcoal smudged into silence.
An artist confronted with his frailty to conceive life.
Mourns the leftover clots of a being.
Miscariage – remnants of nurture -a mere puddle of blood outlining his corrosive flaw.
A splattering of colours, tears stained by remorse.
a howl of def toned melancholy
The artist sips a cup of penny total tea.
A sighed relief-
she has -AWAKENED.
ALONE – – is she fated too?
-The rebels never conforms
Stricken by the awareness of my own
INQUISITIVE betrayed by her translucence
frown rouges her cheeks in introspection.
familiar strange words
Alienation effect prompts a impulsive turn around
damning this loner to truly see.
An epiphany of divine INSIGHT
UNDER or OVER ACHIEVER perfection adorned with feathers of liberty –
don’t try to please anyone!
A storm intervenes obscuring the BIGGER PICTURE-
Save that energy
is a gift and
It’s your greatest fight.
RESPONSIBLE for so much — tempted by earth’s seasonal affective disorder
Why does she have to be mortal?
Wings hook into shoulder blades
Reduced to a puppet attached by silver linings.
Eyes strain ,blood shot.
Wind exhales mustard peppered vapours
orchestrating sight to follow a new PERSPECTIVE.
WISDOM revealed by the crooked halo’d questions
shimmers her every inflection.
the yearn of experience — to keep heavens babe toothless , unaware of the survival evolution taking place
TENACIOUS – I overlook her every smile
stitched up my heart
until a moment forces me to find a burial ground
Unwillingly close my eyes –
the universe screeches –velocity erases all time.
Formless parts full up spaces amongst the dirt.
await for these settlers to wipe all memory from this life.
Old souls are never alone for eternity.
We have one another to rise above our hurt.
knowledge is power, wisdom is happiness and truth is freedom
Daisy chains a stream of consciousness
You do that thing the others do.
Throw a googly-eyed look away
Well, am I stark raving mad?
Gnarly Serf on a wavelength similar
to loyal Harvey the dog of Sam.
One eye hung out precariously
Electrodes attached to its head.
Tortured by experiments
Wronged species deserve rites
Left-handed Nuns appear unGodly.
Impregnated 9 months later delivers a postpartum already dressed up in blue. Momentarily stunned by nausea pangs
Delivered momentarily still
Birth devoid of cries then a shout out hits my ears
He’s not breathing
Inarticulate mid sucking on gas and air queer eye of this realm I pray for skin contact
You worry about your own soul shell feed
I can’t mimic the A team
A letter murmuration in full Flight
Fight solo traversing oceans
Contemporary pirates chaffed from over self-masturbation.
See men wink & weep over Oats that taste so so…..
Self-destruction ejaculates an abundant pressure of love.
Images of enjoyment flicked out a nebulous cornea.
Failure caught wind of future events impossible to foretell a farewell
That would be hell.
Eloquence raped of its plumage
Abreast Birds hearts juking at 160 bpm
The final crash coursing bloody soundbites around the ministry of meow-em’s mouth veins
Shed tears for our once feathered friends.
Ravens versus magpies
A sign glitters all is not well
Clear sight lights up a mass derelict graveyard.
Those blinded peacocks.
How they spent their lives chasing cataracts from the omniscient Third eye.
What have I done?
Pushed away those doves, drowned out the screaming stars.
Irksome elements are the dwarfed remainders of a mind
bent against its will.
Teething the Tension
Widen the gaps in this pension cut
this morn, big mouth
Gums gunned down left in a flap,
When is my end?
The highest peak.
A gaze overlooks
A future uncertain.
Stuck in reverse
Cold cuts down play -sessions.
Seek out fabricated modifications
Hide happiness with a common dividend.
We believe the 365 tales told
Thoughts toss flip
Look what ‘s up
step after step on stealth mines muddled.
For today I love you…
Enough,torture by anguish.
Sundowners gravity compel an early Eve to blush at seeing Adams
apple tree deceived
a pair of knees tainted by grass painted in slithering silence.
Limber climber defy the mass cavity awaiting
Underground Unwanted guardian angels willingly discredit the Grim reaper
When the odds favour that one’s number is up.
Hope in one gulp.
Grim glass-eye stares longingly at well-beings thirst quenched.
Leaked buckets reveal the fluidity of
Forget about recriminations.
Don’t carry an organ donor card
To part from the complexities of life
momentarily contemplate the features of creatures born
They graciously mutate into mere mortals as time calls it a day?
Surrender to terminal Life
Know Death can’t kill
Those already Buried under their own ills.
Sheep on suicide
Where is my mind?
The weed who has every right to declaim — life’s not fair.
I’m back , I’m here . And a round of applause for me.
I’m reclaiming my life!
Life is like tax credits. We have to keep on reclaiming it to make sure we get it.
For one reason only:
This is my life and I care.
separated from the one I thought I
saw my life for what it really is
If that makes me a hard bitch, emotionless or selfish.
I’ll take every adjective and I’ll mix it in with my next meal.
Add an extra portion of muscles and plenty of shellfish.
One life to choose.
Mine or another?
I choose me and my daughter.
Every. Single. Time.
I’m a cheater, I’m a druggie. I’m crazy. I’m a …what?
I ain’t got time for your nonsense,
Pack your shit up and get out;
so I can raise my family
people are human.
Some people keep on building the same rickety, useless fence over and over and over.
And then die.
If my vices-when activated
render me a misfit of society?
Bah j’en fiche!
Whatever! I don’t value your opinion.
I’m not suicidal.
I’m not a sheep.
I’ve been swimming since I was living in an amniotic sac.
Born and bred.
The water life chose me.
Life is not fair — don’t be patronizing.
Boy ( you’ll be a man soon)
Listen. I don’t need you or you type.
I sure as hell, don’t want you.
What about all I’ve done for you.
I literally picked you off the street.
Must I go into detail ….
I’m dealing with it.
I can’t hit a button and go on the rewind.
Her bond to me- is first and foremost.
She’s already living a lie.
I have to explain to her who her biological father is.
Parents walk away every day from their children.
Others do step up
and do good by them.
Until… abuse and disrespect start again.
Back off deal with your emotions.
Cut the strings. Grow a ..ahem
Pair of wings.
Fly – be ambitious — live your life.
You want to be role model?
Live your life.
That is the greatest show of love you can bestow on a child.
Show them –
yes, life is unfair.
No one ever said it was easy.
Nobody wins a prize for it.
Depending on your religion.
If you want a prize
go pick one and go with it.
We just gotta keep going on,
Don’t lose sight of that lighthouse.
It will bring us back to shore.
I can’t carry another dead weight.
I need to save myself and my child.
I was drowning in all of your shit.
The ones I chose to sleep with, and play a game of common whores.
We can all do chores
We can all be whores.
We can all be bores.
Genderize it. Put it into context.
I look around me and everyone with ‘a stick to throw’ has disappeared.
I’m on my knees.
A new dawn, a new day.
New gossip to come — Lodi Dodi -there’s some tussle or gossip to come from some other party.
(Slick Rick reference)
Fodder for the foraging masses.
I don’t owe you an explanation
If being busy is a sign of vindictiveness
If saying no- is a sign of vindictiveness-
Throw that hoop on me.
And I’ll hula hoop my way into ‘the vindictive dance award’s category.
What else can you/people throw at me?
It hurts more when I’m unstable, high – not using my resources.
When I’m me. I can take it.
It doesn’t hurt.
my life —its where I’m at
Live for yourself.
miserable human lives for someone else’s approval.
Trust me, I’ve tried, never lied, nothing to hide.
Everything to gain
lose my sanity, possibly my child?
My Biggest gamble.
willing to take my own life.
You’re stood there crying like you are’ the shook one.’
I’ve stepped into reality.
Scraping dog shit off my shoes every day.
willingly believe dog shit is a sign I’m going to receive good news.
willingly believe that I have what it takes to make it — Again.
gasped my first breath in years.
Not willing to let you cripple me
see another way-
see another route never said I cared about you or him or that.
probably do. This is where I am at.
I do not answer to you.
Or you –
I know who I have to answer to.
Pass me more tissues
aware of my issues.
My life or yours?
I’d be certifiable insane if I allow me to take more attempts on my life.
On a final note
‘I am an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit ‘
- Photo credit Francesca Woodman
Fall – leaves turn shades of browns and greens.
my heart dips and I don’t feel that same sense of summer’s beams.
Alone. I look to my left. Creativity shines- glitter, stilettos- latex, white faux fur coats. All legs.
Like a string of pearls flung across a room, a musky scent wafts across my midst.
Temptations persist. Glamour. Warmth is all I seek. Summer, why do you have to be so cruel?
I know if I cross over to the other side – I’ll be feeling the warmth – it will be pimped out inbox ring styles – I won’t have time to dodge the fists.
My body will burn up an exotic shade of hues. I will have no rest.
Hell is the other side of Summers gluttonous jazz bassline.
One hit. One vein. Blood – artificial nirvana could infiltrate my being.
I won’t have to think of the biting cold that is ringing in my ears. Muffled will be the ice cone, frozen on the edge of my nose. It doesn’t matter who sees that I have been seen.
Bus shelters full, spikes erect from the corporate underground – I can’t sit down. I know it takes fewer muscles to smile than frown.
Energy is all I have to see me through this cycle of undomesticated abuse. October may be Domestic abuse awareness month.
If I hadn’t left my keeper, I would still have a roof over my head.
I would still be touched.
Better the devil you know – I know every one of his moves. I know when to dissociate –
detach my mind
from my body.
Floating above the marital, martial art stylised bed – I see myself and that devil I married, grabbing folds of my skin. He doesn’t notice the smell of the new conditioner I bought at Asda or how soft the sheets feel now they have been newly spun.
Dryer. I’m dry. He doesn’t notice the lack of moisture. He doesn’t notice that all of that fluid has shot up to my eyeballs. I refuse to let them free flow – I am not her. I’m floating.
Fly on the wall. Caught up in a spiders web. I have to watch. It doesn’t matter if I have a crick in my neck – oh hang on a minute is he choking me?
Leftover food languishing in the sink drain. He switched the waste disposal on to automatic.
Arrested, I am back in bed, under him. Time to vogue with my lips and give him a little pucker.
These white sheets have turned red in his need to let off steam. I come out in blisters hovering underneath his vapour.
Turn my neck – feels like I need a box of throat lozenges for having to get all deep throat.
5 am flashing in stimulant green.
I’m 5 months pregnant. I am going to be late.
Grab the nearest decent clothes. Pull-on my Adidas trainers. Scrape my hair up into a ponytail.
Finally the motivation to go on the run. I don’t have to time myself. I know his schedule well.
An Olympic torch passes into my hand. I’m running for freedom. Liberty is my destination.
I can start over.
Spring – blues, violets, colours in a perfect union – uncompressed. Naturally dressed.
For the first time in months, I feel like I belong. I too am a medley of colours. I blend in.
Natures milkshake collects in my breasts – 4 months to go until I give birth to a miracle of pure life.
Not branded a colour – just innocence – a chance to see a light – work on my soul and tackle it all. This is the only cure.
I am no Killer.
Life goes in cycles. It passes by fast. There are no traffic jams when you have to pick up your feet and walk.
Eyes cast down, belly protruding.
Christian volunteers crouch down next to me- hand me a card.
Die and be reborn.
They can help me. I just have to give my old life to our saviour. I’ve never met him but he sounds
Forgiving, comforting, caressing- a handwash with extra Aloe vera – calming properties.
All I have to do is offer my unborn child to him and I can enter paradise with the rest of my weary comrades.
Eyes raise up to the bitter sky. I’ve always thought whatever is up there twinkling and winking down at me is having a far better time than me.
My unborn deserves a place in heaven. Earth only promises scars and wild jungle roots to keep it grounded to the spot.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Did I fold in with this cult out of cowardice?
I will drink my poison.
Maybe this winter I will be reunited with the one that let out a sudden cry.
Lead me not into temptation. I lie down, no need to be afraid, child. I close my eyes and sigh.
Hope is my last premise.
* Inspired by domestic violence awareness month*
HERE IS A LINK TO A POST I WROTE,ON 11TH MAY 2016 , ABOUT MY OWN PERSONAL EXPERIENCES IN A D.V. RELATIONSHIP , TO RAISE DOMESTIC ABUSE AWARENESS IN MY COMMUNITY AND SOCIETY.
CLICK ON THE PINK HIGHLIGHTED LINK BELOW
THE FREEDOM PROGRAMME
*photo credit Rhode Island Francesca Woodman, Benjamin Moore *
My first attempt at Flash fiction.
No one knows just how much I see. I’m just the scare crow to keep the birds away and for the children to mock me. I am made of sticks. Where do sticks come from?
Once upon a time I was a living breathing being. I helped sustain life and I even got hugs for it. People would marvel at my glorious lush head piece of green foliage. I was tall and grand and people sat by me, happy to take some shade.
Now ,I am just a bunch of twigs. Look at how they dress me. I am so ashamed. I can’t bear to look anyone in the eye. This is why as each day passes I die just that little bit more. Rigid – if only I could reach high enough to be a part of heaven’s deities again.
The indulgent wool gatherer
Let us sit here for a second , right here on top of this lush hill.
Pause, for a moment and think about life and what we want to do – explore how we feel.
Lie down ,sprawl out our arms and legs like star fish and gaze up into the sky.
Cloud gazing- can you see we reflect one of those red dwarf stars, we can see at nigh?
Let’s see what we can find in our future before the clouds pass along.
They move far too quickly, our imagination needs to be strong.
We don’t always have to live in the ghetto.
We could pack up our bags and travel the world , live hand to mouth with a more energetic flow.
Learn different languages, eat fine food, dive off cliffs into the ocean – wanting to live and win.
The reason very much different to how you wanted to end it on Hollin’s lane on the island of ‘Gyve inn’.
Second by second is passing us by.
We could get a move on – leave all this materialistic waste lying just here.
We just take ourselves and book a flight to anywhere -all we need is our combined heart and minds to see things more clear.
What a great game. You do an excellent impression of a sheep, mon cherie.
Okay my turn ……
Arms prop up on elbows, Blonde curls and a mouth seemingly dipped in honey,
looks at the man and those bee sting lips are guarded by all seeing drones.
What is the matter, my little sparrow?
You look at me with such warrant arrest,like we have only just met – you look straight past me like I am not even here. Of course we can stay in touch with our loved ones and take our cellphones.
‘I have a game”, says she, eyes dark, exposing true twinkling stars.
The man forgets to breathe his head fully intoxicated like he has spent the day tumbling out of various bars.
“Walk over to those sheep – there! and I will tell you then what it is you next have to do.”
Slightly fazed but not wanting to show it – he heaves himself up and approaches the sheep with a hesitant brazenness-
“Erm well – hello to you and ewe.”
He turns around to listen to the next part of his task.
His little buttercup opens her mouth , urging him on to stroke the sheep.
Hesitatingly, he laughs when he starts to pet one and it lets out a great bleep.
Laughter emanates from the couple, meets in the air, merge -dancing cheek to cheek -finally a caress.
The lady starts to announce she has something she would like to address.
Obligingly, the man will hear anything she wishes to confess.
“It’s all very romantic this talk of living a better life.
‘I can see it happening -‘
‘Yes, I can see this happening. Me standing next to you – I would love to be your wife.”
The man continues to stroke the sheep ,looks at the tufts falling away in his hands , looks down in horror.
Lady continues –
“if you were as half as good at taking action than talking like you are the confirmed lead in every conceived theatre production of tomorrow…
I look around and see trees but alas, no money.
It’s all very well to sit and fantasise with you, when it is bright and sunny.
Well, I see a much truer future with you – you have such a skill,indulging on your feet.- even if you are slightly heady and staggering.
I foresee a better future for us -one with more purpose – by all means continue with these notions of yours- not in part but as a full time career in wool gathering.”
*TRYING TO INCREASE MY VOCABULARY*
WANT TO HAVE A GO?
indulgence in idle fancies and in daydreaming;absentmindedness: His woolgathering was ahandicap in school.
gathering of the tufts of wool shed by sheepand caught on bushes.
SPECIAL THANKS TO LINDA G. HILL’S #soCS -always inspiring.
This, like all my work, is mostly free flow writing. I don’t really do much planning when I write.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “second.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
6 responses to “Summer Daze”
Umm. 60 year old flacid penis? Ewww!
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Blame it on the cocktails 😂😂😂😂😂
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Mesmerising post with auriferous images leaving almost stultified! 😉😉😉😉 Hugs. ❤️❤️😘😘
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Ha ha! T Y. It wasn’t my best – maybe I need a break from blogging. 🙂
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