What I Would Do

I would sleep in.

And spend an hour not contorting myself or punishing myself with the confrontations of my own thoughts, but craft beautiful words onto a page, or ponder my dreams over a pot French Earl Grey.

I would pick my toast into a thousand pieces and lick the butter from my fingers.

I would stop telling myself what I “should” do and get on with

loving the fuck out of my messy overcommitted heart.

I would stop apologising

I would say to the inauthentic:

“I’m gonna stop you right there"

and walk away

I would pick up my camera and photograph myself

Because she beautiful and worthy

And wants to be known

I would bathe in frankincense and play hypnotic tabla music from every room

I would put up the price of my work

Because my art is not there your convenience and you are buying a piece of my soul.

I would teach - but only to those I could truly serve.

I would make music.

God would I make music.

I would close the thesaurus and write something real

I would be a different woman every single day

And love

the fuck

out of myself.