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
out of myself.