Are you sure?
It asks,  
so you can change your mind.
Yes, I say, frustrated, exasperated
and watch it move into the recycle bin.
Scripts, prose, ditties and lines
rejected, superfluous or just don’t seem fine
Thoughts, idioms, metaphors in disharmony
chucked into the gunny
to be dumped to clear space
or to be recycled as part of another dream.

I see behind the wheelie bins
  that they've dropped a little parcel
It's only slightly soggy
  and the label looks still legible
I can see it's not for me
  (they should really be more careful)
So I drop it in the bin
  that's marked only for recycle.

I find myself caught in recycling
not cans and paper and glass
but thoughts and actions
habits can help
but being stuck in the habitual
sloshes me into a swamp
dank and stagnant.

What if I broke the cycle in half
opened myself to hidden reaches
of my mental soulful caverns?
Maybe this interruption
would reawaken my muse
from her drowsiness
sparkling and sprinkling me
with poetic stirrings.

It’s worth trying.

She approach me with interest
We talk, get to know each other
Go on dates, get comfortable.
Both in our feelings,
now she’s scared & flee....
~Run that ****, run it back

She approach me with interest
We talk, get to know each other
Go on dates, get comfortable.
Both in our feelings,
She made things complicated & forced me to leave...
~Run that ****, run it back

She approach me with interest
We talk, get to know each other
Go on dates, get comfortable.
Both in our feelings,
She has anxiety, overthinking, PTSD, thinks I’m like the other boys, she can’t fully breathe...
~Run that ****, run it back

She approach me with interest
We talk, get to know each other
Go on dates, get comfortable.
Both in our feelings,
I message her good morning daily.
No response for a week....
~Run that ****, run it back

She approach me with interest
We talk, get to know each other
Go on dates, get comfortable.
Both in our feelings,
Found out she’s a manipulator. Control freak. Disrespectful to anyone including her parents. So I leave...
~Run that ****, run it back

She approach me with interest
We talk, get to know each other
Go on dates, get comfortable.
Both in our feelings,
She used me as backup until the person she loved was available again. Funny how I been deceived...

When will this cycle end?....

I see
the impermanence of it all
the stuff we can't take with us
that we hoard
in second hand shops
car boot sales
charity shop windows
end of childhood
end of relationships
end of fashion
the end of lives
set out for a new generation
to claim ownership of
who will buy my memories
when I'm gone