You know what I’m talking about, right? UP there. And you’re trying to communicate with someone – in print – and the wheels are simply too busy to pause, to examine what you’re actually putting down on paper – or in message, on social media – and you come out saying something that could puzzle someone, have them scratching their head, as to your true intentions, question your sincerity, thinking, well, which one is it? – Does she plan to celebrate my recovery or my death? – that, kind of shit, cause you’ve already composed the line, it’s embedded firmly in your memory, it’s as solid as a block from the sheet of the pyramids, but you know, your mind likes messing around with you, and it hops and it skips and flips forwards and backwards and plucks and hides and erases shit, making monumental omissions when attempting to communicate with the outer world, dropping words, thoughts, pushing them into the deep and dark zone of zeros and ones.
And you stupidly correct yourself …
“I don’t know about you, but I plan to celebrate your recovery – not mourn your death.”
But you gotta give yourself some slack, cause it’s almost Sunday, and you desperately need a break from your head.
