I have several toxic habits - I know - because I read this article on the web.
It’s a miracle I’m not an axe murderer, based on what the experts said.

I use “should” biased judgements - when things go amiss.
I think about the future, when settling down to rest.
I obsess on defining the “best part” in each of my experiences.
I often think in poetic terms  - which has driven wise men delirious.
I have nova bursts of interest - which escalate into crushes.
I keep a mental list of incidents which, if left unmanaged, lead to grudges.

The flaws go on and on - God, I simply am a mess.
I need to face my many flaws so that they might be addressed.

Do you think anyone is ever perfect?
Is it like playing whack-a-mole?

So that no one ever ends up perfect - they simply end up old?

I’m under the Christmas tree like a present,
yeah, to rifle packages with my name on them,
but I’m caught, transfixed, looking up through the shrine
forgetting myself in delight at this multi-color heaven.

I’ve never lost my wonder at fulgid Christmas lights -
driving around gawking at decorations half the night.
If only the world could stay like this - but we can’t
sustain rhapsody - we can only trespass on bliss.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

(A Senryu poem)

Oh Cupid, God of
desire & ****** love, please,
next time hit us both.

(Senryus about crushes)

I'd never say to
a guy "Oh, and by the way,
have a crush on you."

I'd never stalk my
crush on the Internet - that's
what our friends are for.

Never let a guy
treat you like licorice - you're
a red gummy bear.

(a poem in Senryus)

You don’t have to count,
when you lose a boyfriend, you
know. There was just one.

He was gone before
I knew it - he wasn’t, you know,
******* or anything.

For a moment I
toy with saying, “Alexa, add
rope to my shopping list."

In High School boyfriends
come and go - it's like shopping
- where you return things.

(tales from the viral lock-down)

Brice (my brother) is cutting through what smells like a stack of cinnamon french toast.
My stomach growls at the aroma like a hunting cat.
I jump out of bed, grab my robe and rush excitedly to the kitchen.
I see the pan in the sink.
gasp “You didn’t MAKE me any!!?” I accuse, in indignant shock.
Brice, looking up, “JESUS, get on some fu-kin' clothes!”
He waves his arms like he's fighting a flock of birds.
I look down, “GOD, I AM wearing clothes, you PERV! - and a bathrobe”
"Who says THAT’S a bathrobe??” He says, sarcastically.
Me: “Kiki Montparnasse!”, I say, indignantly.
My mom enters to fill her coffee cup.
Brice: “Will you please tell YOUR DAUGHTER to get on some clothes?”
My mom inspects me and I twirl for my audience.
“That IS a little sheer”, she pronounces.
“ARGH!, FINE,” I say, before stomping off to change.
I start to fume."HE CAN GO ALL OVER IN BOXER SHORTS BUT I CAN'T WEAR A BATHROBE?!!"
“And HE didn’t make EXTRA TOAST”, I yell back in pointed accusation.
“Get to work,” (on more toast) I hear her tell him, just before I slam my door.

another day…

My brother Brice is fighting with his girl-friend on the phone.
Of course, I'm only hearing 1/2 the conversation - but he sounds like a ****.
Me: "apologize," I silently, slowly, exaggeratedly mouth
Brice: "fu-kovv," he mouths back, silently
Me: "I'm your sister," I say, "I get to boss you around, besides, I KNOW what’s BEST"
A minute later - He actually apologizes!!! And they make up.
(I dance around the room like Rocky)

You called me "temperamental."
You said I’m “taciturn and I'm spoiled.”

We were in the crowded cafeteria,
so I refused to become embroiled.

I wanted to say you’re conceited -
a know-it all , with stupid hair and
between your ears there’s nothing there.

But what you said stuck in my head.
No more texts! I'm ignoring your thread.

I have things to tell you - to your face -
and that would be Monday (I'll have to wait).

You think you’re hot - but NO, your NOT
- and I'm done helping you study.
Your jokes are lame
your kisses tame
and by the way - your dog is ugly.