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Somewhat low…

Since I came back from Southampton, I feel subdued. A bit sad. To go all that way for such a tiny reason has disappointed me so much.

I keep being asked if I fall asleep. No, I don’t because of my neurological disease. It seems that consultants find it hard to look past their specialism.

A friend came over, and we sat by the birch tree. Birds were to and fro. Quite bold.

It was pleasant, but after she left I knew I needed to get some food in the house. But I watered the garden instead.

I don’t fall asleep but my spelling is now rubbish, I forget my next sentence, and I type the same word twice. I catch all of these (I think), but am frightened by it.

I have done very little today. I don’t really want to do anything. I want to sleep and never stop.

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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