It’s both things all the time
Because I am this and that
I am a feather in someone else’s cap
I was never a writer just
Someone falling through various thoughts
Some of which caught on
The frayed edges of my being
On my way down
Because it is always spinning
IT
Is always spiralling out
The non-definitive centre of yourself
Never stopping
Only the speed varies
And that
Despite popular belief
We can in fact control
It’s just that most of the time
It’s more fun not to…