i woke up this morning all sorts of out of sorts.
short of sort of.
not sought after.
short of laughter.
proverbially hanging from the rafters.
i think i might be in need of crafting
a new life.
striving to be seen,
to arrive living on the other side
of this uphill climb
despite sore limbs and aches,
feeling broken and borked.
this looking in the mirror of my soul
and sorting out the mis-shapen mess
of all sorts.
out of shorts.
this is daft.
i think it’s best i laugh
stop crying in my cups,
abort this line of thought
and pull myself up.
here’s the long and the short of it:
this false evidence appearing real –
carpe the fucking diem!
sieze the day.
word up, sister.
tear up your list of woes and put your sass on display.
now get up off your ass.
“tear up your list of woes and put your sass on display.”
Words to live by.