It’s nice to laugh when you’re made fun of. It’s a pleasant feeling. You will make a butterfly clap, And have the whole place reeling!

Stands With a Fist Falls down with a Joy. She beats down sunny And conscious!

  I.     Jealousy, envy, cheery, fine.   Like a dog barking to alert me of something noisy and unusual, I am greeted with no smile. like a car horn trumpeting for my attention to order, the TV in the neighbor’s house is turned off for the night. like a baby’s cry as a…

They were unhappy, you see. They were getting enough.  The give and give and the needs weren’t met. He has children.  She has bad therapy. He must have been in the stepfather role of immaturity? She won’t take the therapy. Don’t fight.  You’re just protecting the Mother replacement from overwhelm!? Diagnosis is avoided and always…

“Compose yourself,  you have! Do a little Yoda! Then I shall move beyond The shadow of the doubt That you will laugh!”

“I’ve got beans that Father told me to buy, which I lied about before I did it, and I did it before, Because I was in progress And interrupted by my Family system, and now They are leaving the system Very soon. So, I can enjoy not surrendering To their biscuits anymore.”

The stress was unlivable and de-escalated. Then, not as stressful, actually perfect. They’ve been travelling, so we haven’t communicated. Leaving physically, it was just not the timing I expected, instead, the doom is always near. Honest communication is contentious, but I’m mellow, in-the-middle, and accommodating. At a livable distance. My steady progress is a busy…

Can’t read yet. Scanning the scenery in the packed parking lot, surveying the menu of movies. Chattahoochee. We’re on the beat. Just moment to moment enjoyment. Tinker Tailor in the background, with subtitles. A lot of info. “That’s a lot to do, so don’t do anything, please.” Faith kicked me right between the eyes. “I…

The Landlord’s   Before talking on paper. Life’s going-ons here. But by order of the profit, she walks in. one of their true and own. Like there’s dignity in just walking, pushing a cart. A page for angst. But with all the deep-crap questions. And all the needs never met. Conquistadors looking at their heroes.…

My mother owns an art gallery full of abstract paintings. It’s stunning but I still don’t know why. This art gallery that my mom owns is why I’m bored, and why she gave me work to do. I method act total laziness. The creative process was already all around my childhood house. You should see…