I want a little human

It’s not personal. They are my lesbian best friends. But when the closer of the two suggested I provide sperm and the other scoffed, I had to respond. I didn’t think or debate with myself about it, I just roared – naturally.

What a sacred space to be in… to want to create and nurture a beautiful new life for years inside of decades (and then some).

Yes. I have thought about it. And more than that… I have made it known that I want my own little Vincent Joshua. People. Cousins. Family. Friends. Colleagues. They scoffed. But they don’t have to be the deal-breaker because I am not nor would I ever be in love with these people, those cousins, that family or friends, or even them and their colleagues.

I want a little human. That laughs and smiles and cries and wants. That needs me and changes my mind about the cost of bread and petrol and the time that the news is on – or why any of these crazy silly little things should even matter at all.

A little genius that shows me that sometimes all I need to do is look at the dog’s bowl, study ants and their path up somebody else’s wall, understand the message an incessant cat is getting at or just sit and laugh at the funny faces we did earlier today, and the day before that and the day before that…

But we are rubbish. We are jaded trashcans. And it’s not over until we have moaned to anyone who will listen – so it’s never finished really…. And still, the light of love can take its place in a takeaway-box moment or maybe within a poem on the scribe of ancient cotton… It’s where you write it… and no one else need define that for you.

I want a little human.


Vincent Joshua.

© Dylan Balkind

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