The traffic, that Saturday morning…
Dead, tired, or cold, slow—sporadic, much like the snow that fell in the afternoon.
It flew, that day, and I am worn.
I walked in the snow that day.
It was fluffy.
It fell to the ground and onto my head.
I walked to the mailbox just find it empty.
Again, twas morn; night fell, and I was screwed.
WordPress and Twitter cannot be handled one at a time.
Miss Either, and no matter; disappointed, “I am done.”
“Your comment is awaiting moderation.”
Thanks for reminding me: no community here. A stranger. Alone.
And Twitter can be the worse, the Favs and RTs, TYs, wink chains, trains…
Shit. I hit the Like button, attempting to refrain. Frickin’ touchscreen.
And now a mistake, for all to see, though no one ever looks.
How sad. But more tired.
Exhausted, and late, and I have fifteen more to read…sigh-groan…
And then it gets weird, but then I understood.
Empty there. Just one here? No way.
I should reblog this. Lend exposure. No post was published for the day.
Received, and replied, P.D. said Thanks.
But an idea popped into my feeble mind; I replied, You’re Welcome, and then some.
Obliterated. Input; hell, come.
I think, in all matter of sorts, and then of what others think.
Moving, my path slowly adjusts; but I am tired beyond reason.
Sleep—2 a.m. I need sleep…
…But I am far, too far behind. Another passing season.
And then I became really sick. Sunday morning.
My body says, Purge.
My mind, pulled into this year, continues, Purge.
Mysterious WordPress unfollows…Purge.
Mistakes…I am ashamed.
I can’t retreat fast enough. Escape, escape.
But I am fat, and obtuse and horrifically out of shape.
But I pour over, and pore over in the effort to catch up.
Whatever it is I enter, I never quite handle or show. I am a stranger, nonetheless, almost buried in the snow.