I'm home alone for a minute, my mate and her mom went to Pathmark. Next Saturday they are having a dinner for their family coming from Florida. My children were invited. I hope they come but I don't think they will. My oldest daughter said she will see if she has the money to get here. I know what she means, enough to take a taxi back home. My youngest daughter doesn't know if she will have to work or not. So we'll see. Right now I don't feel like being bothered with anyone, I just want to sleep, read, watch TV. Eating would be nice but I am tired of chicken, broiled, baked and fried. some beef stew would be good, or some stew chicken made like my grand mother use to make would be nice. She use to soft fry the chicken and put it in a pot of gravy and let it simmer for an hour or so. Then eat it over white rice. Hummmmm! I don't like cooking when my mate is around. She hoovers and it drives me crazy. She treats me like I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm really in a I don't give a damn kind of mood. I'm locked in my shell alone again, but I'm happy to be alone. it's one of those days that just hurts Here's a poem I wrote about it hurting once before.
OUCH!!!
Lost inside a shell,
sometimes called hell.
Gorging on a diet of bullshit,
now I’m torn and sick.
Empty praises, false adornment,
tricks of torment.
Right from the start,
my blessings, a bruised heart.
Gifted with endless pain,
driven madly insane.
Hiding inside a shell,
sometimes, called hell.
Fueled by greed, affection I need.
Constantly, please.
I gave the best of my life,
he took another wife.
To her he did wed,
me he took to bed.
I don’t belong here, there or anywhere.
Disappearing inside a shell,
sometimes called hell.
I believed in her affection,
thinking, my heart would have protection.
Like a man it’s the same,
full of 'illussional' game.
When she gets a call from Bacardi Le’mon,
it’s me left alone.
She lives her life and I live mine.
never shall the two intertwine.
Consumed inside a shell,
sometimes called hell.
Loneliness won’t you leave,
I want to breathe.
Ignorance is bliss,
spawn three from thy pussy lips.
The children are grown,
and want to be left alone.
Stroke my delicate ego,
like a long ear beagle.
OUCH!!!
I got a boo boo.
Oh! Boo who who?
Crack that shell,
sometimes called hell.
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