Oh! I'd forgotten wherefore aught that'd hail Was never inked, why Tristram Shandy thence Seemed cure enow, and why I slept fr'intents In lieu of posting la, my work t'avail. Yes, sleep was that fine drug which in betrayl Washed clean the mental chalkboard in defense Of some remote attempt at fragile sense, Until he chose to be where--what?! tis stale. I 'fessed at one weak moment, "I've in poor 'Scuse lo, a crush on...him." Alas. That'd do Me in for keeps, left swooning as it were When night 'gain cozened all, and whispring to Myself, "I wish he missed me too!" Rain's tour Is sweet, but I'm a mess because of who?
20Mar19a
Honestly, I forbore to write anything at all, in hopes of not inking this damning piece.