grapefruit

i got home and heeled off my shoes, rolled my socks down to around my ankles and changed into my comfy flannel pj bottoms.
took off my bra and picked up the bong.
apparently a roomie had already hit more than half of it during an "emergency situation" (whatever that means).
and he's comfortably situated in front of the television now, playing a football game.

i cashed it out and thought about my girl coming over.
we're gonna watch that movie again. i insist.
and she's not objectionable.
we're going to decide on dinner and when we go to the store we'll pick up ingredients, some wood to burn, and hot chocolate.

with all of this,
and these are good things to look forward to;
i'll be packing more tomorrow, tonight will pan into a wonderful evening, i know some people love me,
but with all of this,
some sort of rage is bubbling in my throat.
i feel almost like i should squint my eyes and hurl.

somehow i want to detach myself
but still be capable of appreciating experience.

it's how i flop between intro/extro.

i can affect my patience,
i can focus on maintaining awareness, keeping my eyes open,
and from time to time i can even let go,
though, in a day in/day out i sometimes get caught up.
and sing soprano.

for many years i'd felt as though i have so many voices.
each mood adds emphasis to a spectrum of tone.
and many times my outer ear will catch a retarded sharp and i want to bury my head in my hands and draw 'loco' around my cranium.
roll my eyes, attempt to regain composure,
and a moment later i feel born to be wild.

sometimes there's just no such thing as straight and narrow.
and my contradiction is that the shortest distance is one line.
and i'm just along for the ride, but how will i enjoy it.

perpetually, i hope.

fleshy


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