i am drinking grape juice on ice, pretending it is wine.
my entire room smells like a cinema seat; i eat
a lot of popcorn because my life is like a movie.
i just had a brief, yet intense, attack of anxiety while walking
from the kitchen into my bedroom;
a feeling like 'oh my god i will never amount to anything
worthy of loving!'
seized me by the cheek like a granny trying to flirt with a tyke by
pinching their chub in between her thumb and index fingers.
what is for desert? the answer to anything is probably never
one in number, but rather vast and expansive in size
and quantity.
oh yes, but of course!, it is a balancing act- that is a fact.
the trick is to obtain some glue- seriously, see, with glue you
can fasten everything in its right place, that way when we
are called by the kings and queens to begin juggling
nothing
falls away into observable, yet blank, space.
your face reminds me of the feeling my insides feel when i'm hugging
or holding a little licking puppy-
i eat and sleep alone. i do not own a cell phone.
i have only a computer and a bad attitude disguised by
an artificial tendency to abhor anybody that is rude.
i hate you.
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