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A safe dog, doesn't run the fence. She wouldn't break the good leash to leave you.
It's been a hard day
I'm wine stained and long limbed, and long haired I--'m Not quite the porcelain doll you had in mind, my love. I'm hard headed, pointy breasted, and depressed love. not the quite the spitting image had of a white dove. but I'm trying, to make it though the day. it's hard to say... I didn't mean to make it my way... I'm just trying to be the person that you see in me but I've got to admit it's been a hard day.
Untitled
I want to say and I want to mean, that I'm too busy to care. That I have too many obligations to think about what the big story meant to me personally and what I do with all of this feeling after. But the truth is, eating at the edges, I'm never too busy to care. I hope she doesn't hate me. I tried to do the right thing. People suck, actually. As much as I didn't want this to turn into another comment section, it did. As much as I hoped people would take my carefully selected omissions as a sign, they didn't. I guess this is what doing this kind of thing is like. I guess I get used to it. I guess I at least pretend to be too busy to care.
To get here was harrowing
I was late and the wind and water drowned my car. I clasped my steering wheel anxiety-ridden down the 80 for 45 miles at a speed somewhere in between. I was in town getting my teeth fixed. Through the window, I watched the old sights stained by rain. The dentist took longer than expected and I wondered if I would have the energy to stop by the independent bookstore. Thankfully, I did. A train came as I pointed my car towards home and so I parked and got a coffee. I got gas. And then... As I returned emails and texts from my car about a story that featured an odious resident of this two-horse town, I debated internally whether to stop by the courthouse. For better or worse, I did. The courthouse was almost comically large, festooned with the word "COURTHOUSE" as if it had been dreamed up by an algorithm attempting to approximate one. The clouds darkened the sky and though the drizzle lifted, the evidence on the building remained. It added something- a tone maybe- to an already
Lake Mead
You've got your barrels honey and they are starting to peek past the waterline, poking their rusted little heads up. This lake is too low and all of your secrets are getting pulled up by maintenance crews. You never thought the drought would get so bad that the past would start bleeding into the present. But babe-- look at those bodies? Sweetheart, how many do you have down there?
© 2016 - 2024 wickedkat
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