I don’t exist, yet I have a body, Whose limbs gathered together and called themselves mine? Why? What do they expect of me? If they want to be moved, they’ll be disappointed. I don’t exist, I will not move. If they want to be nourished they’ll be disillusioned. I don’t exist. I won’t act. They may want to be loved. Someone should suggest they’d latch on somewhere else.
What if everything is ruled by limbs? A hostile takeover, aimed at creation? I may not exist, yet they make me do things…
Yesterday met a woman who didn’t exist either. could tell by her eyes. asked her: how do you do? She said don’t. sat on the porch and peed.
Why do they? don’t.
I promised myself to not join #NaPoWriMo this year. I’m too busy. Too tired. So obviously, I didn’t write anything and it’s not inspired by the prompt on https://www.napowrimo.net/day-one-4/.