If I could shoot my
eye out with that thing, I’d just
sit and watch TV.
A Christmas story
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If I could shoot my
eye out with that thing, I’d just
sit and watch TV.
Only if you’re not
the one doing the shopping,
cleaning and baking.
Like catching snowflakes,
this melts quickly from the heat
of a stressful month.
If you had to pick,
what sense would you sacrifice?
Impossible choice.
My spare bedroom holds
many possibilities
under all that junk.
I burn candles and
incense. Maintain silence. Find
myself in nothing.
Fat balls of yarn crowd
my home like clawless kittens,
needling me to start.
No greater self-love
than a dog licking itself
with satisfaction.
Sometimes, the hunger
that compels you to eat a
cookie is sadness.
Soldiers wear helmets.
Women wear makeup, styled hair.
Our mode of defense.