fine and mellow now please

My silly anxious pit would like to make me curl up today inside myself where I don’t speak and I don’t need to answer. If there’s the urge for words, I can learn a new French one – a bout de souffle (breathless) - and make it my new favourite. I could take the big mug and sip on hot honeyed milk, then hurt my teeth, sinking them into a cold magnum ice cream. There’s a button to press play for characters to come alive on a screen. They could be in the south of France. She could wear jeans really well, and, … and, …and he could tell his friend about her smile that kills him so. They could kiss to the soundtrack of my coco pops, pop poppety pop smack, swilling in my bowl while I sink into the cloud bed and imagine it to be more like this: