Sprinkled inbetween the funerals, a whole lot of coreflutes, a whole lot of racists. A whole lot of nonsense.
A whole lot of she never texted me back and brands and bullshit.
A whole lot of gaslighting and ghosting and making out you’re not our mob.
A whole lot of ‘not our mob’ to justify abuse.
You’re not our mob, are you? You mob can mourn alone.
It doesn’t matter. My articles don’t matter. None of this bullshit website matters.
I thought we were supposed to hold on to each other tightly, because it is the only way we can survive
But I see that other mob just turn away with disrespect.
May your minds be open to the oneness of creation.
Not little ways. A dot of white ochre on the forehead.
May your eyes be truly open so you can truly see what is happening around you.
The clouds have thousands of names. Your phone only has one.
A dot of white ochre on the corner of the eye.
May your ears be open so you can truly listen to what’s being said to you.
Big heart way.
A white dot of ochre next to your ear.
You don’t weep.
You wail.
You organise when there’s no tears left.
May nothing but words of goodness and kindness pass through your lips
A white dot of ochre on the chin.
