nothing today. even dear august with its promise of tan lines and buff thighs has entered my building in a hush. i’ve unplugged myself from the noise of you, i’ve gone acoustic. bare.
9 days. 365 plus when hell connected me to drug juice, and being a heroin addict would have been a walk in the park, a breeze through the trees, instead of the brain bullet of saying hello. or goodbye. and all that spilled in between.
i want out. i want off with the leash. my wag’s been halted way too long by sick head games and agility training through dog courses…i’ve mastered the weave poles, and when this last one is gone through, i’ll keep running. tag gone.
