Father

For the longest of times, I was my momma's boy (in every sense, you damned cynics!) and pops always found the easiest way to get to my nerves.
The man was impeccable.
Everything I was not.
Restrained, patient, intelligent and compassionate.

I spent the last ~30 years trying not to be like him and I find myself copying his mannerisms and catchphrases to the point where I cannot recognize myself anymore. Maybe he is not such a bad guy, after all...

Organisized

One of these days I have to do that myself just so that I can post here with any form of regularity. I have lost the inspiration to create any kind of contrived lyrical structures, that I call poems (Its mine and I have rights to name it what I want).

But half way through most drafts, I do hit delete and go back to sleep. I wish there was some way where I could train myself to sleepblog.

It might be way more interesting, unrestrained and actually readable.