That I could birth some gem and display it to all of you in your various tiny struggles and that we may all sit around the dinner table with it and rejoice in our collective needs as ignorant and hopeful people.
Sadly, tonight this shall not pass.
Fortunately, it is not my place to bring us all together as such.
I'm trying my best and am open to suggestions.
The resounding joy that I exude and collect at the sight of not working tomorrow! As if this unaccountability even illuminates the desolate and heartless path! As if I acknowledge this at all! Spite! The hearts and skulls of circumstance collide equally with my trajectory and leave it all straight down the middle; it is up to me to decide if the times are rich, red, and beating or hard, stark, and cold. Again, this line in the sand, this glove thrown in the dirt is wholly ignored by me. I will not be moved to choose.
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