Just joint roaches and spit down there.
In the twin-trash-cans and the brown one is for actual trash
Or whatever I decide to treat the trash with
To feel better.
“Feed the trash-can.”
Is an old term.
Like the leftover that will make you sick,
The trash is gonna enjoy more than you.
I let fruits go bad on purpose or the bad peel of the banana.
It’s always a brownspot 2/3s of the way in.
And I’m not gonna eat it.
Mushy.
I like em green.
Clean the room.
Let the cats get a whiff.
See if Pip wants to explore more culinary nutrition options since she started kindergarten K-9 Training.
An official.
The dog is more official to you.
An Other in Mind . would say more “credible.”
More Facetious, is the nature of dialect.
This is the first time I feel so alive
And like I earned it.
To be a dying-woman again.
No damsel-in-distress; I hate that term.
It abhorrifies me.
I see videos of like butch-gals
Lifting chairs.
And even in my stars and natal chart I’m
7to5 as far as masculine to feminine energy.
Most males have more feminine energy in their sign chart.
I suppose that’s the juxtaposition of the life
Living the other shoe.
Whatcha gonna do with it pussy?
Find the punctuation elsewhere.
I don’t feel much like a puss but more of a wuss.
Courageousness, being brave.
I have awards but I am so insecure.
Instable/Insatiable.
I hate boredom.
I live it.
I love it to be it.
Everything a contradiction.
My only faith in what I don’t like.
Every chore and every sigh of relief after.
I suppose that’s how we’re all supposed to feel
About doing what I-am supposed to.
I’m not going to go global accountability with “we’re”
Fuck that noise.
And the noise in my head keeps going dark.
Purple + Blue Tunes.
Tones for whimsy
And I keep ricocheting the lamp structure and light
Affinities for more room and coziness.
I’ve been struggling with monotony again.
How many ways can you fuck up to figure out a puzzle?
Your algorithm is challenging me in unsolvable bullshit, but
I can’t put the game down.
Very well.
Very good.
So, I suppose.
Onto new digz that are the old-tombs.
And they made me feel comfortable.
Now doing what is the origin, what I’ve always done and what I wanted to – is challenging.
It still doesn’t look like how I imagined.
Otherwise, it’s something callous to say I’m only unhappy.
Friday the 13th somethingintheair.
I wrote about you, this-day, many days ago
Only to find I was writing about this year’s lucky day to be on an unlucky day.
Good Job, Samantha.
The nose still sniffs out in vetrium.
Doesn’t it?
Who’s behind that Mask?
I’ve no clue.
The brows are growing back. A mere
1/4in on the findley parts I’d have to trim
With eyebrow scissors every week.
Twice a week when I was working outside the home.
Concaved to office clothing and now I use my orange pillow
One side felt-suede-velvet and the other embroidered tapestry woven linen marks.
It’s pretty flat from the chair.
Now instead of 18 cardigans and 6 of them crawlers, i got like 5.
New and Old
Celebrations.
Is good for cancer-wear.
All my t-shirts I’ve picked out are all the ones
I felt like
Had to be a special occassion to wear.
I suppose LiFEEiee is the “Special Occassion” huh?
Back around the bend, earth never
Leaves you.
Repetition Motives into trying.
At least, I’m doing that this time.
Picking back up from killing yourself everyday from 30 years into-it.
Is a lot harder than the part where you give up every 4-5 years.
Contract Blues.
Yup.
Getting Old, now.
I still don’t know what the “man side” of Service has to say about my bouts.
and I don’t wanna make em look like pansies, I think that’s an incorragable gender-role that doesn’t really serve anyone.
I just got to talking about it.
I don’t think most of them have, yet.
I hope onto yet.
That’s a good dialect.
I hope onto yet.
There’s a lot of wiggle-room there.
After you get off the self-acceptance part.
Or perpetually damned part.
Or serving existence in unagreeable “I shouldn’t have been born.”
Never let a astrophysicist and politician fall in love with you.
Military and Defense shot The Star out of the Sky.
Now I got this big ol’ quiet family I can’t fucking see because I’m blind, dawg.
They all were D1 and Ivy League and pretty much superstars in any cabinet they got out of or into.
Even the public supercoolcelebrity mothersmilk bullshit.
Oh pantheon of vaudeville and your terrible crimes to humanity to derge on this family.
The Twins do not Lament, just judge and put on really emo tunes for 3
And then for 2 is esaaaaaa spanish music??
And we dance and show you how – to be cool.
And he white-bois it; that’s how you know it’s good.
Little flair for the ones he’s embarrassing near to know> I could be better.
But it makes Sam laugh.
I love it, dear.
I guess that’s how you go from decrepit+depressed to
Just chuckled, it gets better after this.
Just leave it at that and stop leaving the desk.
You can write about it.
I’ll remind myself to not forgot to be able to allow myself to say that to myself in my head.
Yeah – PTSD.
That’s how it isto think quick on your feet.
3 seconds to panic, 1 second to form a thought, 10 seconds for a plan.
12 you’re dead.
11 is Lucky.
Not just for australious and reckonsmes.
For everything.
Check Check 1 1
That’s the tune to go-go-go
When ya gotta go go go to the Moon.
Same with awesome tunes.
Fuck et, I promise you.
No one’s watching you with admiration, jealousy or judgement as much as you think they are:
I would know.
Been there, Kid.
Scratchy Ears, in everyconversation.
Sigh, even on jumpstreet I didn’t like you.
The Uncle PhoneLine Tree has been activated for awhile and it doesn’t
Include phones.
I’ve had enough bullshit for stars.
Love seeing my sorta nephews I have no Idea.
I’m like 37 years older than you and you’ve barely left your 20s
And met me as a 22 year old.
Exes and Ohms.
There was some energy there.
Shout me out in the circle, Native-Brother.
Everyone here speaks fluent-bullshit/notruths-non.lies.
Thank, g-d.
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