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A strange day…

Snow in April here is unusual. It started falling just as I was halfway to somewhere. It was -3C last night, and my heating had been switched off. Yes. I am that stupid.

It was also strange as I got two texts harassing me. They had been told not to contact me or come near my home. So that is reported to the police, following my earlier report two weeks ago.

My cleaner was upset. They are angry on my behalf. So are some other people. People who matter.

I have felt rubbish all day. I realise now that I forgot the steroids this morning. I am also experiencing pains in my ribs from my collapsing spine. I feel better now.

I have opened a bottle of wine. Once, someone was here and drank more in 19 hours than I do in two weeks.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by madswirl.com and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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