understanding

i pretend to be understanding but honestly none of this- i mean, nothing!- makes any sense to me. the business of sadness is a full-time job that often leads us to madness.

tough luck your highness- her majesty- it isn't good enough, my love for thee is just another phrase with words of three and nobody seems to care if i'm down on bended knee choking on despair.

it's true that nothing is really fair (insert line about "my fair lady"). it's also becoming painfully true that you cannot make anybody do anything they don't want to- furthermore, what would be the point in that?

i feel fat but i'm really as skinny as a new york city sewer rat. and there's somebody's feral cat always chasing after me. i run- i mean i ran, for a while but now i just lay back, crack a smile, and wait for the epitome of denial to sink it's cold, hard teeth into my heart, soul, mind and body.