My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - In Corners - till a Day The Owner passed - identified - And carried Me away -
And now We roam in Sovreign Woods - And now We hunt the Doe - And every time I speak for Him The Mountains straight reply -
And do I smile, such cordial light Opon the Valley glow - It is as a Vesuvian face Had let itβs pleasure through... -Emily Dickinson*
And I do smile, the white bright Colgate chiclets stretch under my lips. The crooked thing, the clever turn of my mouth, we all pass a point in life when this is a means to an end. Stop. Do not collect 200. Again. Again, I thought "Send me straight to hell" because it's not fair for me to feel this way any more. I want to shoulder the brunt of it and throw it up and down, white linens to the wind. A dramatization of who I have come to be, fueled and fired by alcohol and lack of sleep.
A stuck Lipton in the vending machine, "I want to start a social movement of direct experience" Sure. We'll do that. Let me get back. . . let me get back to this blue screen for a bit. I want a change. I want to see some change! Let's throw our phones away and start over. Depression falicitates our efforts, but I had my pleasure. I had my kicks though.