My hair is misting and I’m dying in the midsts
Of humidity.
Dropped the olive oil in the coconut oil water mist
And deemed it a worthy upholstery solvent cleanser,
Leave-in conditioner for my hair and ze dog Pip.

I talked about deservings and shared silly-tunes.
And I always tell myself I’ll just cook it quick and not make
It all “fancy-feeling”
Or feel uptight or I gotta live up to a certain sentiment.

I cooked chicken wings I tossed in the back
Of my mini-fridge and they stayed frozen-frozen so icy they were semifrodo meat grains
And that means shchmaltz racka-tack-tack-tacking
The flavor of the dinosaur-poop
Sized cumungus
Of sweet potato
And alabaster turtle gifted me over a month ago,
But not quite 2.

I did the extra-wash.
Convinced Partner + Correspondent would
Never let me wash the duvet and throw ever again.
Laziness, yeah.
Man’s-SACRED-yellowed-pillow type-sentiment yeah.
Ducttape-Recliner is my … I forgot what I treat it as.

People are weird about germs.
And I choose wheat-germ to ghermainic
In my sense of
“Goddliness-is-cleanliness”
And fresh-laundered bed.

And whipping the “that’s gotta be 40lbs wet”
Prison-of-the-mind or mental-illness grey.
My true real favorite grey,
Most call it Charcoal but Slate is nice to come by.
A color created in 2006 on the HexSphereDiagram permutation
And now everyone just uses the slidey-thing one module graph cross-air of some sort.
Even if nature’s shown it forever.

If my true-nature is to feel redeemed at remaking my bed
And the sweat I’ve been fighting off of seasonal-mix-change of oils in the leave-in-conditioner too humid for lotion mist
Acknowledging it’s more like 85lbs wet on my triceps
To whip that prison-of-the-mind weighted grey blanket
In salmon rows
As a fucking parabolic
Shit-curtain-stature,
I mean : let’s call it a workout for today that could last 3 weeks compared to black-block-bottom tarmacks.

And I won’t stop judo-jumping
My favorite people
And there was time for an extra wash at the end of just 3 throw pillows.
Bc that’s how many sits on my bed and my lounge-chair I feel I only use for 13 minutes to 3 hours at a time when I glimpse to lounge
And see how nice the angle is on my tv that blew it’s speaker.
And 28 was perfect movie-loudness.
And now animation is 56max and Movie’s
I’m just gonna shit it out until I get paid.
The logins are on the phone.
And sometimes I sit it on the [garage-comeback-origin-story-childhood-mobile.worktable.] tvtable, I feel ven-glorious I just accepted is the perfect
Night-stand I’ve never purchased.
[Even if I wish I could find a perfect mid-century 2-3 drawer nightstand with a thinshelf for remotes and snacks up top, maybe an extra charger.] (someone else took it between blinks.)
The plastic ones are still expensive and mine houses garage stuff now. [in-the-garage.]
Cool.
I realized the 15 years ago printer mysterious-jam-that-would-never-go-away but
Was systematically, hardware _ program fine; [checked + certified by me..]
Was repaired and still in use.
And I keep hearing construction noises like a vulture
Lives above my sky.

And I’ve never bought my own desk.
This bad-boi-aroonie looks like
Low time great find store and expensive decorations {classy ones.}
And it’s from the Civil War.
God knows how many veterans have received it.
Then I remember I can read commodore every time
I inch my way down to the ground.
To retrieve thine vape,
As the glasses have beseeched to just get knocked off my face;
Whenever I got writer’s block and feel embarrassed
Immature, selfish, and like lazy.
Avoiding work as if it’s been ages since I wrote.
And it’s like 18 hours if I didn’t post something between the dates.
But the blank hurts, the unbespoken none-blu tile.
Show me your shadowbold font dear, pls. But alas’
Clear translucent hues.
Not-bad. If you get what I mean.

I’ll finally have flannels and solid-color tops.
To wear.
¾ Length Sleeve. A blessing.

You threw vodka on my psychedelic-research center(ed.)
Hanely
The first gift I bought myself as an Undercover Boss @ 18;
To enter the workforce without traceable-work-permit
But permitted bc the corporate plugs already know me well.

I still miss it.
You said you hated long sleeves.
And you do.
But 3/4s are your goldilocks-region of sleevage.
Summer or Winter.
Hoodie Man by Summer.
Fur-crest from 58’ by June.
Then somehow no hoodie and short sleeves.
Then many jackets.
Flannel over hoodie;
I’m gonna cry and find my way to the back of the store or whatever place I’m in. [ya look so good!, dear :’)]

And then you look at 16 objects over a 24 minute span in the same place for an inevitable,
2inches away from your face. [to find what I was looking for: on-a-mission-inthe-grocerystore-shit.]
Wow, so kismet.

But cute, all the same.
It looks more like 8.74/14 than a three-quarters sleeve on you.
The [my clothing that I’m accustomed to sharing bc I lived by hand-me-downs and the-Thrift all my life as a primary source of clothing.] other-thief tho – right at his elbow.
It’s like you can tell we all got to politics somehow, by now.