Derogatory regard for me and my ways.

Any participation in the joyous
Bonaventure of acting-vice
That is really vice.
The act-natural accord of myself.
Telling every gawtdamn hippie-cell
In the brain of my alltime brains.
Trying to convince I’m not a punk-chancy.
Panic-attack symptom soother.
Go write about it.
Put up the cancer cloth.es.
Well is it excessive we’re we’ve gotten.
Perused all my sweaters it’s getting too. .
Just because I don’t leave the house doesn’t mean I can’t dress up a little.
Makes me think of rich-people and wannabees.
They always wear sweats around me.
How do I convince myself to wear the namebrand-good-sweats, again. ,
Undeserving, why even ask that?
I bought em, shit.
And I put myself back there.
The simplest joy of adventure
In some ditsy ass combo
I didn’t make up on the spot.
You’ve seen me do it before.
And that’s why I question myself.
In all my lives and persona to identity.
What do I accost I learned about myself in a live
Lived working hard.
Living the lifestyle of a life of working hard for work that’s hard to handle
Mentally.
And then just uh – yuh, I grew as a person personally
In my own mental accord.
Like my conscious and I be discussing
And philosphizing on my existence.
Along the way.
Even if I didn’t talk much.
Haven’t had a marker or a mark or a handler
Since I was 26?
I coud’ve told someone that when I was 32.
Haven’t guess I will now.
Trembling at my own persistence to persue
My adoring
Fucking great
Personality.

I used to think that was an insult.
Then like –
I realized I was pretty cool.
I think I’m cool
Dumb as shit, but
An intellectual.
And like caring if I don’t wear clothes
That looks like i”m gonna ryukyu ninja jutsu
Someone’s ass in the street if they look at me wrong.
Bro it’s just my jammy-jams.
And that’s how I piss myself off again.
Are old people like this in their mind too?
Gently embarrasing for internal inside joke with one’s self?
I suppose that means I have a good relationship with myself.
Honest with all my hardship then I like
Go do some other shit 7 minutes later.
Or preplan for 37 minutes and go do it.
Or avoid for 4 hours to 14 days to 4 years.
These are my usual schedules .
OH numbers, I love your cold austere stare.
Concrete in your logic and I am loving you agin.
This is why I’m a cheat.
01010001010 I know you mentioned.
Dishonest, yet.
I loved the book.

Long for it, too much now.
Scared to see my highlighter annotated
Scribbles.
Doodles and messages.
You read my book I wrote to you
That wrote back to you
In your writings to me in your book.
I’m help.ess drowning circumnavigating
How tf do I tell you
I’m ancy when you write ‘
‘Because like well, I think you’re better than me.
And the 2nd asshole you want to kick in the family first
Is like the best editor I know
And who taught him how to write
And like inspired me to write
After he houndogged me about et for probably a good
36 degrees of existence and a man-made paradox to space and time itself later.
You gots me.
Listening to Kitty Wells
Ready to holler and kick Hank’s ass.
For songs about cheating.
And Leonards poems about cheating.
I’m the only damn one that didn’t cheat in my marriage
And I’ve been divorced almost 4 decades.
The only people I hang out with.
Why the hell did he have to get me pregnant.
Doing what he done did.
Never trust the pointdexter in the corner.
Motherfucker thinks too much
And don’e read the conterversials shits.

And now I got like 3,000 grandkids and they’re all over 52.

Ya can’t tell me I was the cheat in this situation when I gave you 14
And 4 others.
One each, I think.
I’m sure.
I don’t wanna feel so bard + bad
That I gotta count on my fingers if everyones in the room.
Then I don’t remember how much I gotta remember because the richter scale of generation is complicated.
Everyones uncle is younger than them.
And I’m the oldest auntie out of em all.
And the only real female of the family, like whether I got adopted up in this shits
And married the elder.

Broke ass maid in made-up-queries
And awful romance bit-clips later.
Like.
I don’t know what to do with it mane.
What’s my age…
OH, I got cooked.
And now
I just have to legally abide by 24.
6 days straight of Han and water-torture exercises
For zhe cancsies that are just like
Cancer treatment in another nation
And military standard.
But like ya knoooowwwwwww..
It kicked my ass at 7 years old the first time I did Han and the 3rd time my cancer went terminal.
It goes quick.
This is the worst
And most comfortable time it’s been terminal.
Prepped for months and none of these intelligence
Worker geezers even fucking noticed.
Go-bags with straps, elder cardigans.
The fancier fanny-pack I’ll call it that.
Holds the shadey-shades, 2 vapes always, a cart, a silver hairclip and da g-buds
Me earbuds.
But I think it’s funnier to gcall it that.
Oggling in Googols.
What am I gonna do when I get old again?

Those ancient fucks.
Never date older men.
They’ll remember you
Hear your voice in the wind
And stay around forever
Trying to work out a forever with you.
I’m 67
And frankly, for a mundanely extraordinary life and circumstance and so forth.
Most of my exes are centenarians.
That means over 100, dawg.
How are they still sexy and charming as hell and thoughtful while I’m alzheimers blinking
And go monotone empty non-verbal depressed and play a puzzle while we cuddle
And can remember every hotel room
Barracks
Shitty apartment
Someone’s room.
A 5ft tall chest freezer in someone’s corner of a garage I start sleeping on bc I’m hot
“it’s pregnant”
Holds industrial ice cream
And highly supportive with those old shellac molds.
Mint blue applique
And someone someone said another name for that shade.

Shaded me, hmph.
I wondered.
And suddenly everyone references
And that catches me.
You’re telling on yourself, Samantha.
I never said shit,
Why you’d have to go and find and read it?
Sounds peculiar to me, that I’m in the hotseat for well;

Working hard.
At my job.