shrouded in should
oh no, not today again.
damned it all to hell.)
full of churning acid in my estomago.
a highened sense of hyper-sensitivity and
a rebellion agianst others telling me to share.
share, like i know i should
i hate should.
"suck it, should!"
i should NOT want to have my controlling sausage-fingers on everything.
but i do.
but i am.
or feel that there is not enough love to go around.
how i utterly forget.
no beautiful or unique snowflake after all.
thank the lord for sisters who come to meet you downtown and break you from the monotony and stress of your crabby boss; thank the lord for the promise of an evening meal with friends you consider family; thank the lord for grapes.
tell me, friends.
if you walked into booklings
heard the bell ringing with entrance...
where would you go?
what would you do?
come muse with me today.
if for no other reason than
you really should.
future owner of literary libations sold at BOOKLINGS.