I decided to rip the fabric of habit.
In my appetite to stray from the routine
Where I was free from fears, scars and doubt,
Watching waves roll in,
Watching customers come in,
I struck a hornet’s nest
With Mother’s rusty gardening hoe
And ran for the hills like a Neanderthal
Just to feel
The primal excitement
That the newspapers never delivered.
Originally published May 2016