Writing | Thought, often

     Some mornings I imagine the moment I am run over on the way to work so vividly it’s like I’ve wished it. The outcome is never life threatening but just enough to put me out of action; a broken leg, a fractured arm or a cracked rib maybe. A bleeding wound would be sufficiently dramatic of course, just as long as it didn’t scar. A trip to A&E would be essential, otherwise - what's the point?

     I realise these are bad thoughts and the ones that shouldn't infiltrate. These are lands that no healthy mind travels to whilst it weaves new memories into experience. But my mind is one that flirts with the most intolerable of thoughts. My imagination is not quite satisfied with the realms of rational thought, it always has to take that extra leap.