The ice maker has a sense of humor.
The stove can't tell time and my dishwasher needs a dishwasher.
I thought I was open but I really just can't let go. Never had that problem with men. Only have that problem with women. Problem women.
I thought I was easy but that only pertained to sex.
Fucking remotes. Which is for what?
I want her to move. Please move.
I don't want one!
Tarot card place mats. Now That's the ticket! Photos of New York or Las Angeles or better yet Cuba! This is the time of growth
Of drinking cocktails upside down.
Of tap dancing answers and canned laughter.
Of jumping off Ferris wheels and pounding espressos.
Of Rome and teachers
Of women who are not your friends and men who...
A picnic on the beach at sunset with cheese and wine please?
And take that chick with you!
Ready set RUN.
I thought I was a good mom but I never asked Christopher.
Mugwort aides in dreaming. I dream. I write. I dance. I dream. I write. I can't let go. It's a problem. When I was a kid I was a flower child. Different from a hippy. It's like a hippy in training.
But the Internet. Fuck the Internet. Fuck letting go. Fuck fuck yum. I like fucking. It's yummy and it feels good which is the same as yummy.
And it doesn't matter if I was ever a hippy or if I can't let go or even if I was a good mother. Because now... Because now.
It's too late.