Something

I have this image in my head where I’m crawling (maybe in rain) back to somewhere or someplace new (in the presence of a person, maybe more than one) with a cry’y Drew Barrymore face (Ever After’esque or Never Been Kissed, more Ever After cause it’s more true (truer?) saying “I’m really not that mean.” I fall  over on my side (wearing a gown-like dress, sopping wet by now) Roll up in a ball and shiver.  I’d like to stop being drawn to bites and zings just ’cause they nourish for the time being.

A  safety word or… safety-whisper where I tap y’all on the shoulder and say, “It…it’s too much.”

And then… I look at life sans Mean and it kind of sucks a little. It’s kind of … ghaye. And I run from it, Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, there’s a bug, there’s a bug, there’s a bug.

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