Week-end : 5 Minute Freewrite : Parts 1-2-3

see through

The rooster was going off again at 5 in the morning. It was time to do something.

So I awoke and rose to the fresh start of the day as if I was the pancake sizzling on the pan, the cast iron landed man. What gives with the Rooster thinking this Air BNB is only a four-star and maybe a three, the cock a doodle do of wakefulness is not my cup of tea nor do I celebrate like the USA soccer team. But the Rooster has got me punctual and ready for the day or at least breakfast. Has National Geographic found me or I have found them with the sound bytes as if Kayne was in the house here to receipt, freewrite with the tangle, the Rodger bravo got crosshairs on poetry, a notion of creative contemporary foci?

Rubbing the dust of the third eye as the Rooster has me awoke in the year of the pig, the year of the ching chang where are the fresh towels? or the mint on the pillow just as I like it. We in the country with nature barking up it’s orders of waking at the proper time especially if you want to eggs a fresh, so fresh they look at you as you scramble them like the letters in a fresh game of scrabble.

But here for the unwind of the city. The rawness of the Rooster and the trivial of hey ‘I am too busy’. Water. Dripping, Dripping. Dripping. She was slowly losing her mind but I can handle the incline of the unwind of the country but she can not, call an uber the rent is late cause this place doesn’t medicate the mind, the willing the dripping of this leaky gutter, drip drop down on to the current situation, situation to end all situations, make haste with the waste this air b n b is getting a zero, no fresh flowers for my empty vase.

Dripping your soul best be a clenching for the 5-star power rated renter cause the ultimate situation has reawakening the significance of the countryside. A place for a breath of fresh air and a cockle doodle do, the first name remains the same but the moment has been interrupted by the listener, the witness, the rooster and now a leak of the drip unlike Pollock’s drip a real drip not laid out on the line but woken from the misspoken.

But the mark on the door has been the twist in this morning’s rise as if a vote was taken during the break, a murder mystery for the ages, a cello played silent, not maple, the hot gamble of the true story. A Freewrite of three parts cause the morning arose, and dinner was late but breakfast on time.

https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/weekend-freewrite-7-13-2019-part-1-the-first-sentence