If your looking for explanation of my life, you will not find it here. Simply put this is merely my thoughts posted in vagueness as of a poetic verse of sorts. You will have to sort through the details, and jump to your own conclusions.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Sunday Morning as Poetic Thought
On coming home, to discover that it appears as if though the lines on the highway have just been recently painted.
~ It would seem that the lines have just been painted, what path yesterday was vaguely defined, yet known completely; today, is stark white boundaries defined against unforgiving ground, only for you to travel over and leave behind your dirty marks, indicating lack of focus, and disregard to work begun. ~
(But in actuality making the reference to a person whom I know, who says he will begin the process to heal the demons in his soul, which would require attendance at a certain meeting, and to him, saying and saying, and yet when the day of the meeting comes, not following through with action, but giving disregard to the many conversations spoken.)
On going down to start my laundry in the apartment shared laundry facilities, and coming back up to my apartment to think fondly of Oreo ice cream I purchased a week ago, and left at my boyfriends house, and how I wish I had that ice cream sitting in my freezer for me to eat, instead of me having nothing to eat, when I am hungry and thirsty.
~ Omg. Am hungry, am thirsty, with nothing to obtain from my cupboards. Then a happy dance moment when the thought of ice cream came to mind. Off to Target.~
~ A moment recaptured, Oreo ice cream locked away in the confines of his apartment, now to be repurchased, complete with chocolate syrup, to occupy a frozen place, to fill up my empty tummy times. ~
On heading out the door to go to Target and looking down at my self to discover that I look quite dumpy in my work uniform, which I have not removed since getting off work a little over two hours ago.
~ Decisions, Decisions, for this tired hungry soul. Do I go as I am fully clothed in uniform or put forth the effort to change my clothes to blend in with the Target Sunday crowd? ~
On giving it some thought.
~ Tackiness I have disregarded in exchange for simple attire of a comfy pair of jean and worn tee. ~
On stopping by the laundry room on my way out to take my clothes out of the washing machine and put into the dryer, only to discover someone has removed them and placed them in my hamper and shoved them beneath a table.
~ Someone took my clothes out the washing machine. Weird thinking of someone handling my wet clothes. A bit uncomfortable when my undies are involved.~
On arriving at Target and begrudgingly realizing I need to use a cart, as I am out of bottled water, and wish to purchase a heavy 24 pack of bottled water. A cart is needed.
~ To roam the aisles, here I go, to not conform to your ways, I pull instead of push. This way you are to follow me, instead of me following your ever clumsy ways. Never to push the cart as you all do. ~
On making a decision outside of my original ice cream selection choice.
~ Oh Sugar Cookie ice cream, you got my attention, as your existence I was not aware, , and then the words “with a hint of brown sugar,” so enticed me, without hesitation I came to know it was to be you. ~
On exchanging a text message with my boyfriend, in which he inquires if it could be so that I will love the sugar ice cream more then I love him.
~ In due time she will know if sweetness is what she craves of sugar cookie goodness, or kisses tender on her lips and his arms wrapped around her tight as she dozes off to sleep. ~
On referring to all thoughts coming out poetically for the morning.
~ Is not the challenging of the ordinary thoughts, to be placed in poetic verse, to distort the simply meaning, to elongate the vowels, and add many more commas then is needed. ~
On eating my sugar cookie ice cream.
~ Oh how ordinary the sugar cookie becomes when blended in with sweet frozen vanilla ice cream. Frozen pieces you should not be, and what a disappointment that is to me. ~
On going down to retrieve my clothes from the dryer, only to discover my towel wrapped up tight in the corner of the fitted sheet.
~ Why is always the tender soft towel that is captured in the corners of your harsh reality? The one thing for which you give a damn as whether or not it comes out fluffy soft and dry for which all others can be hung to dry, as fluffy soft they do not need to be; only you. ~