Sleepy thoughts

What if I just typed the words that came out of my head without deleting anything? Just, constantly writing. Streaming of words, flowing, leaking, upsetting the balance of white to a blur of meaningless pixels. No word deleting. It's tempting, but I'll stick to it. Thoughts. Thinking thoughts. Sleepy thoughts. That's the title I'll give this blog. I'm tired, and it shows. This blog will be either weak or like sudden prose. A story. I should think of something interesting to say. I'm thinking of the window. I'm thinking about thoughts I had earlier.

The garden in the house I live in is a highway for cats. Motor highway. On the fence at the back. Always will be a cat. Cat fights. Cat walks. Cat climbs. Cat. In the mornings I have been waking up before my alarm. I hear the birds. I wonder why, a creature with wings would stay in the cat ghetto of Bath. Surely it's the land of death for them. But maybe, they are proud of the land (air space?) they were born and raised in. Perhaps they are determined to outlive the evil cat species. Maybe they are foolish, ignorant, idealistic. Maybe they have comfort in false hope that one day their aunties, uncles, mothers, sisters, fathers, lovers (what kind of order was that?) will cease to be slaughtered by furry claws and vicious teeth. Or maybe the birds don't have an issue. Maybe they're tweeting away at 6am everyday because they are actually safe and growing in numbers. All those mating calls may be a sign that they are climbing up the population ladder. Maybe them birds are happy, and the cats have more important things to worry about. Like the rats. Perhaps they're eating the rats next door, which I think, would be a good thing, because I don't want the rats to think that they will do better in our house. Because they probably would, but that'd be besides the point. Perhaps it's better for all of species-kind that species-kind have this hope and this ignorants and this idealism, to prevent things going weird.