Today's poem was doomed to fall on the dark side... although the overall optimism of its tone should be noted! I've had the most banal dingy birthday-comedown cold all week. It's driving me mad with its not-quite-sick-enough-to-be-bedridden mediocrity. I'm fed up with being snotty + shirty + sore. I'm fed up with me. I'm fed up with you. I'm going to go sup steaming miso + feel sorry for meself in front of a crappy movie.
1 comment:
I should have. Next time the urge for crap hits me I pledge to go the whole glittery hog. (If it's even an option at my lacklustre dvd shop.)
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