Beat on…

There’s been a whisper in the air for a while now. Something not quite heard, not yet audible, but there nonetheless. I haven’t caught it properly, whatever it is, but almost – yes, almost.

A change is coming. A change has come.

The question is - will this change make a difference? I ponder this as I paint my glass, drag out my words, splash my paint and prick my fingers; will that change make a difference?

My heart of hearts is a secret place. There’s darkness there and the pumping of blood, anger, hurt, and even good old-fashioned sentiment – but love?

I look in the mirror at a person I don’t know and listen to me heart of hearts pumping away and away and away, beating an answer in fleshy flaccid Morse.

Anyway, what I only felt has come about. It won’t change anything. It can’t change me. I’ll never be what I’m expected to be no matter what these old or new humans call me and expect. And why should I? I am just me. So you don’t like it? So what! All the stereotypical, rose tint in the world – gold shoes or not – don’t matter a whole hill of beans - I'm me. Keep you messages and vendettas. Make all the empty people choose sides. Who cares?

Not me. It’ll make no difference. It’s gone too far. The corner has been turned and I don’t see behind me anymore. Beat on my heart. Beat on.