Faced the dread too soon this morning, now it's all this.  The signals are all crossed, bickering beak finches fill the yawning cracks in my siding.  Good lord may I come again out of hiding.  Greenblue grass good day pretty.

I must have done something wrong or the bad thing would not be hanging around me.  I must not be seeing myself clearly.  Explanatory efforts kill the dreamy thing slowly.  Life leaks a bit at these unseen seams.  Dear me.  I accept this pasta in the name of whatever is holy me.

Our little stomachs burn for something expecting but gone missing.  Where did I leave me?  How can it be?  Have I spilled scribbling the illegible notary?  Full of dribbling vinegar again sadly scheming of nothing.  Last I looked, I was full to brim of perfect being… now nothing but a mist and a stinging, a longing for something gone missing.