Once upon a time, I thought I was a real live crime fighter. In college. I called in a criminal I saw on TV. The "COPS"? She not.
I have started two entirely different blog posts and erased them in their entirety. My mind? She blank.
I want to eat crabs. Crabs and crabs and garlic crabs and stone crab claws and snow crabs until I puke. Really. That much. The sushi? She over.
I never blog about quitting drinking because then I start again and I never want to be held accountable. Twist in my sobriety? 4 days and counting. The girl? She mean.
The flux? She FUCKING drive me crazy. Uncle Sam needs to piss on the pot or get off. Should he go or should he stay? The leaving? She cry.
The older sibling is almost 40. His momma passed away and I said 'You're not alone, you've still got me.' But he didn't want me, you'll see. The hate? She strong.
The husband? I don't think he remembers what it's like to kiss me. The fatigue? She a bitch.
Speaking of that man. He's waiting for me. The hurry? She always late.
Affectionately. It's all I've got.