There are days I have so much to feel with no adjective wanton enough for the emotion. No parody or comparison feels plausible enough to describe the desert. Rooted firmly in the middle of this is me and oh that is something. Really? Big Head. Overcompensation for something. This desert gets crowded and loud, feeling so much without words. The thing that never shuts up. Forever speaking but not talking. Rooted in the moment, judged, weighed..
and found lacking by the sand
So I empty something out of my shoes..
SHUT UP
now that would be something.
ACCEPTING THE SANDWICH: Moments of harsh reality can be short: so bite hard, chew and swallow. I talk about everything from marriage to kids and pretty much whatever life flings my way. The rebel in me still wants to wish in one hand. The Realist makes me wash my hands and brush profusely.
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