I’m a grumpy dada right now - high in the season of heart break, break up, and it’s showing. Short fuse, trigger happy - won’t wash my son’s lunch box because he is dithering about. It’s not him - this is an adult shit project called love.

We leap into it joyfully, with never a care to how it might finish - in fact I did tarry a moment - telling myself to make a good decision - and then my heart told everyone else to fuck off - this was his show. The show of the heart - how the heart shows up for me is an all or none proposition.

Its been like this since I can remember and it’s mostly served me well. But, older dog I am now - I’m wary - well, I’m really not - I’m just in the deep musing of one who does not want to be at this stage, right now. Where there is seemingly nothing - nothing but ashes and the feeling of cold. No light, no body of warmth. No kiss on my face, no skin to slip my body in - just the faint scent of her now rancid body butter on her clothes still hanging next to mine. Bitter, bitter love, you fucking cunt.

I wish myself well - on this day where I’d rather burn everything down and myself included in the funeral pyre.