I’m just thinking I need to apply myself, but I’m not qualified at being the me, that my brain says its up for, the potential me, is locked in a test tube bottle somewhere, this drag ass me, is waiting to get the call.
the game plan was to be the very best me and then I met him and the game plan was to be the very best wife, and then I found there were many and the game plan was to be the best one, and I failed I never was what the game plan called for.
I can sustain growth, as my limbs branch out and the sun warms me. My seed has sprouted and spores fill the air. My roots count in the thousands, and I am stronger, the wind bends my trunk but I do not fear […]
Push and pull through the weeds as I might, I’m an interloper. My garden is a prison to escape, the insect is king and I am a pawn of my fastidiousness. I can never win against such armies. The cricket presses […]
Staple your thoughts to your heart and step out the door and begin again, she always told herself, you will succeed in the end, but the end was now so near, but every day counted and her heart was full of holes, […]
Leave it to the ground, sticks. They are every size, pieces of wood that have fallen off the vine. She looks like a stick, thin, tall, frail. I wonder if I put two sticks together can I make a doll that looks like her with arms and legs.
It is such a little thing of niceties. Usually dependent on a woman’s sensibilities. It sometimes hinges on unreality. These subtleties of pleasing and being pleased. My spoon falls to the floor. Clumsy a brute evermore.
I’m plagued with the feeling of fear for the future. Like some kind of biblical Armageddon that we have brought down on ourselves. Oh yeah we’re causing this mass collision of time and evil, but we can stop it. I just wonder who will try.