The Trouble With Morning Is

We've Left The Moment. It's Gone. We're Somewhere Else Now, And That's Okay. We've Still Got That Moment With Us Somewhere, Deep In Our Memory, Seeping Into Our Dna. And When Our Cells Get Scattered , Whenever That Happens, This Moment Will Still Exist In Them. Those Cells Might Be The Biulding Block Of Something New. A Planet Or Star Or A Sunflower, A Baby. Maybe Even A Cockroach. Who Knows? Whatever It Is, It'll Be A Part Of Us, This Thing Right Here And Now, And We'll Be A Part Of It.

Retribution Is A Dog Chasing Its Tail.

Petra Turned To Her. "everybody Lies About Who They Are. Name One Person Here Who Isn't Doing That And I Will Drop Out Right Now!" Shanti Felt That Snake Of Truth Coil Around Her Legs, Threatening To Squeeze. "i Didn't Mean..." "no One Ever Does." Petra Said, Shoving The Baton Back At Shanti.

Perhaps This Is How Girls Fall -- Not In Some Crime Of Enchantment At The Hands Of A Wicked Ne'er-do-well, A Grand Before And After In Which They Are Innocent Victims Who Have No Say In The Matter. Perhaps They Simply Are Kissed And Want To Kiss Back. Perhaps They Even Kiss First. And Why Should They Not?

No One Asks How Or What I Am Doing. They Could Not Care Less. We’re All Looking Glasses, We Girls, Existing Only To Reflect Their Images Back To Them As They’d Like To Be Seen. Hollow Vessels Of Girls To Be Rinsed Of Our Own Ambitions, Wants, And Opinions, Just Waiting To Be Filled With The Cool, Tepid Water Of Gracious Compliance. A Fissure Forms In The Vessel. I’m Cracking Open.