Blue Day. Formerly B Day. Day 62
I put my shirt on backwards today and then never bothered to fix it. Not the hoodie. I would have noticed that right away, especially if the hood was up. When I finally did notice, I realized the slow swirl of my soul spiraling out of me, had robbed me of ambition and replaced it with apathy. I spent the entire day with my shirt on backwards. It was easier than fixing it.
Here is a poorly rhymed poem about my day.
The neighbor is outside till ten
He hits a ball
again, again
His bat sounds like it's made of steel
Anger I think
Is what I feel
He never stops, making noise
He needs to get some indoor toys
I have to listen to him screaming
Even when I'm napping, dreaming,
I will find a way to hide his ball
For he is short and I am tall (well taller than him. He's like four feet.)
I cannot listen for another moment
The rage inside begins to foment
It's bad enough to be with kids all day
And then come home to more, hooray
I'd rather be an armadillo
They are mostly deaf, as a pillow (so the internet says)
Then I wouldn't have to hear
That stupid kid who lives too near.
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