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I LOVE THIS WEDNESDAY. VACATION Rocks.

Today I am even more sunburnt. That’s all I got. Seriously. We’ve been playing outside and I haven’t been thinking about poems. Also, I’m getting kinda sick of myself. Blogging my way into a poem feels lately, like talking with myself at a really lame party, and realizing that we’re completely annoying.

Sometimes the irritating things can become the inspiration. I’m pretty sure it’s a thing. Like, I’m still fighting this cold, and probably allergies. But, I’m fighting it with dark chocolate with spicy peppers in it, plus cranberry-pomegranate emergenC. GAH, and that fact that I just blogged that annoys me. Why would anyone care that I am eating chocolate with chillis in it? Why do I have to write about my life in order to figure out what I am thinking about this world?

I am annoyed with myself, and I’m going to try to write a poem about that.

Twinkling Bully

Okay, go slow. Write about that feeling of being so far distant. About going to wish upon a star and coming up blank under the firmament of all you wish you could be. When the effort of wriggling blindly through the world, a caterpillar in a mold of setting jello, works you weary and ready to drop to the suspension and the paralysis, and the distance is not of the speck-in-the-universe variety, but the singularity between you as you are, and you as you wish, that turns these gazes and pleas upward. Where all the unlearned things line up like laughing painted dolls with mocking lips, the universe all laid out in taunting galaxies, snickering at your baby tune. Starlight star bright, what a child you are. It must know, that twinkling bully, how the wishes darken every year? We are no children, we don’t wish for ponies or pet monkeys invisible to everyone but us, but we make the plainest wishes with greater desire, but with far less hope than we did then. Just these,

Help, please. Save us. Show me.

*************************

Hmm. At times, I felt pretty good writing that. Now, though, I can’t shake that feeling, the feeling of being irritated with myself that started the thing in the first place. Just can’t shake it. Also, I’m truly annoyed that I can’t figure out how to format my poems the way I want to in WP. Whiny Whiny Wednesday. I found someway to whine about it even on vacation 🙂 I even called the universe a twinkling bully. What’s the professional whiner market like these days?  Happy Wednesday!

 

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