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traci-simsPoems
I do not like my state of mind; I'm bitter, querulous, unkind. I hate my legs, I hate my hands, I do not yearn for lovelier lands. I dread the dawn's recurrent light; I hate to go to bed at night. I snoot at earnest, simple folk. I cannot take the gentlest joke. I find no peace in paint or type. My world is but a lot of tripe. I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted. For what I think, I'd be arrested. I am not sick, I am not well. My quondam dreams are shot to hell. My soul is crushed, my spirit sore; I do not like me anymore. I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse. I ponder on the narrow house. I shudder at the thought of men-- I'm due to fall in love again.
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Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
Symptom Recital by Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)
I do not like my state of mind; I'm bitter, querulous, unkind. I hate my legs, I hate my hands, I do not yearn for lovelier lands. I dread the dawn's recurrent light; I hate to go to bed at night. I snoot at earnest, simple folk. I cannot take the gentlest joke. I find no peace in paint or type. My world is but a lot of tripe. I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted. For what I think, I'd be arrested. I am not sick, I am not well. My quondam dreams are shot to hell. My soul is crushed, my spirit sore; I do not like me anymore. I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse. I ponder on the narrow house. I shudder at the thought of men-- I'm due to fall in love again.
Ah, Dorothy!
traci-sims
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traci-sims
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Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
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