I have no idea what inspired this or where it came from.
Maybe I should have worn a hat.
Or a steel bucket.
There’s a spot down by the lemon tree where the ideas grow. I planted them there you see. Not through choice you must understand. (un)Happy accident. The ideas bounce around in my head for a while and if I don’t write them down somewhere they break through the walls of my skull and take root.
Always next to the lemon tree.
It explains why it’s at such an angle.
To the untrained eye they just look like weeds. Some are sickly. Spindly. Destined to reach too hard and fast before tumbling to the earth. Some are stronger and if you rub against them they might just worm their way into your soul.
If you don’t take a look you’ll never know.
I tried to stop it. I wore a hat for a while. When that didn’t work I drilled a plate into the side of my skull. That slowed them. At least until they got smart.
I’ve come to realise that the good ones always find a way out in the end. The bad ones fester early. They make me do things. Oh no. Not like that. Not to other people.
Just to myself.
They are the ones that made me file my fingers to points.
To sharpen the writing.
Please don’t tell them we talked.
There’s no telling what might happen.