Trough
And here I am again. shit.
...
Why do I feel compelled to describe the details of last night's dinner with Mauri? How the spaghetti was spelt-based, how the veggies were meant for stir-fry, how Mister Kitty watched the whole thing? Why? It was a nice evening, okay? The walk to Powell's was cold, yes, but I've been freezing for a week now. And Powell's #2 was alright as well, even taking the sleazy pinup calendar selection into account. And there were discussions of relationships, one lengthy, one clipped.
And why do I have to mention that my skin crawls at the thought of 135' of envy green? That it prickles minutely at Idaho? That I've been holding on to ghosts longer than anyone?
Why do I have to recount the details of my day at work? How I got a job lead? How they called me back specially?
Why can't I remember my dreams? Why do others' dreams haunt me? Why can't I drop phrases like blood pressure? Why does it feel like I'm trolling for something big and slow and dark, me a bit of bait at the bottom of the lake?
Why do I feel like this has become a dumping ground for my emotional baggage?
Why do I feel like I'm picking a fight with myself?
...
Why do I feel compelled to describe the details of last night's dinner with Mauri? How the spaghetti was spelt-based, how the veggies were meant for stir-fry, how Mister Kitty watched the whole thing? Why? It was a nice evening, okay? The walk to Powell's was cold, yes, but I've been freezing for a week now. And Powell's #2 was alright as well, even taking the sleazy pinup calendar selection into account. And there were discussions of relationships, one lengthy, one clipped.
And why do I have to mention that my skin crawls at the thought of 135' of envy green? That it prickles minutely at Idaho? That I've been holding on to ghosts longer than anyone?
Why do I have to recount the details of my day at work? How I got a job lead? How they called me back specially?
Why can't I remember my dreams? Why do others' dreams haunt me? Why can't I drop phrases like blood pressure? Why does it feel like I'm trolling for something big and slow and dark, me a bit of bait at the bottom of the lake?
Why do I feel like this has become a dumping ground for my emotional baggage?
Why do I feel like I'm picking a fight with myself?
posted by Fourbank at 8:01 PM
1 Comments:
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