poor excuse
seeing others’ faults
is so much easier than
self-diagnosis.
breaking fasts
hungry me waiting
for mcdonalds to open.
sweet egg mcmuffin…
reserved
friends are locked outside
while strangers have their way, and
you don’t seem to mind.
away
my escape hatch closed;
crash the gates so I can go
anywhere but here.
well, like spring at least…
a low of 15
makes a high of 46
feel just like summer.
ambi-social
solitary me.
thought it was what I wanted.
maybe I’ll go out.
sotu (draft 2)
when presidents speak,
ovations abound for such
superficial words.
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