Free range freewrite using randomly selected prompt "to my," from June 24, 2025:
To my
To my love
To my best friend
To my everything
To my self
To my shelf
My shelf holds the clothes, my other shelf holds the books, my other shelf holds the crap I take out of my pockets at the end of the day and I don’t know what to do with. My Shelf, my shelf, my Shelfish Shelf. Shelfish because it swallows the stuff, the clothes, the books, the crap. I know this because I can’t find the stuff later and the only one who saw the stuff between my last seeing the stuff was the shelf. The shelfy shelfy shelf. Shelf, oh Shelf, what shelf are you? What be you? You have a stomach? You hungry? You don’t like what I give you? You like it too much? You love me? You want to eat me? I don’t fit on you, but you are eating me piece by piece. Eventually I will be left with nothing, just my naked body, and then perhaps I will fit and you can eat me finally. I keep on using you, though you take my stuff. Maybe you are my stuff. You are stuff. You are stuffed. You are stuffing. I am stuffing. I am a turkey. Turkeys say gobble gobble. This is ridiculous. This is silly. Maybe you are the turkey. Maybe you saw gobble gobble, gobbledy gook. Maybe you should get stuffed and then I’ll eat you. I’ll have a feast and invite everyone over to my bedroom and we will break you apart and eat you piece by piece, just like how you ate my stuff.
