I am over weight. I’m 40lbs over what I should be. Yet,I insist on wearing my Victoria Secret black bikini even if things hang over the side of the strings. I shave myself to the nub beyond a swimsuit line and yet, I get no takers.
I wish someone were here. My bed is broken but we could make do.
The sun is warming my attic room and giving birth to a new day! Right! There is no new day. Just a reputation for non-compliance, broken education and misguided thoughts, I am twenty-something.
Where is a father when one is is needed? Father Floyd my economic and stoic professor who happens to claim me as a child on his taxes; is a nonexistent Muppet with glasses from the free bin at Wal-Mart.
Again, how does one live, breath and become in a home of educating oblique homophobic parents? How do I get myself out of this one?
Suppose it really doesn’t matter, the pills, the porn, the fantasies of women I pass on the street will guide me through!
Or, better yet, a shower! I haven’t done that for a few days.
“No to pubic hair, leg, hair arm, pit hair…I’d shave my toes if I could.”
Mother Theresa prefers me without the glasses and stringy hair. And, she’d really appreciate it if I went for a spray tan! Theresa likes me to look my best for her.
So there we go Ambien Grace; your chore list for the day. Maybe I’ll even put last year’s bikini on and see what Beckett Couvillion the third thinks!
