Here are some more attempts at automatic writing, which I try and do as I am drifting off to sleep. They tend to be short mainly because if they go on too long I tend to start to wrestle back conscious control of my thoughts. But I have managed longer paragraphs in the past, maybe I just need to get back in the swing a bit more.

The point I guess is to encourage weird imagery and metaphors and coincidences out of the subconscious that wouldn’t be possible with normal boring conscious thinking.

I fall in love as the electric kettle boils.

Behind the curtain you may find what is haunting you, a woman’s voice and footsteps on the carpet.

The door closes, the cutlery is moved in it’s drawer, the white horse.

Was it worth it when you hissed at the family? Feel that? It’s shame.

Can you get used to the feeling that someone wants to touch your face? Why are they breathing there? They are lifting sticks above their heads.

This looks nice. Like words you can’t quite make out. A film that has slowed down.

Hello, two birds. The green sky is full of flowers.

It burns to the touch, it is the singer’s lips, look at me, look at me.

To illustrate this post I made a few random squiggles on a page and turned them into pictures. It seemed to fit the same sort of attitude as the automatic writing.