Getting Through

Have yah evah sed, "Here I am again?" That's sort of a bastardized style of writing imo. Like those damned cockroaches, I adapt and its Hell. I know all about Hell. Maine in ways they don't want me to tell about because they're either ashamed for me or of me. Me. is the abbreviated way of writing it. Men abbreviate too but I wouldn't wanna be one. They aren't the creators or the incubators. They are the animal husbands. I stand accused and now, I lay me down to die protesting your innocence since this is MY story. So, I come full moon circle with Kitaro playing in my mind and wonder what just happened? People are so perverse with their pleasure. Hell knows all about pleasure. How can it be deprived with the most agony? No one wants to entertain depression but we'll drink a round and a toast tah that morning aftah, chummy. If you're the author, you get to choose your own ending and you can let her down easy or she can go off like a steam whistle, Damn, that bitch can be whateveh! Just be damned glad YOU didn't get stuck answering to her. Some folks never expected her. Her own mother hoped to high heaven that she'd be her firstborn son. Her own firstborn died before they were two months old nearly two years apart. What would Hell feel like if you can imagine? Would you be totally aware or would it grow on you or in you? What if that huffing and puffing isn't your own breath? What if yours stopped and its the sound of something lugging you off to be eaten? Welcome to my imagination aka as wonderland, Alice.
I think that its time to settle down before I become overwhelmed. There's a word to make you wonder. Its not as if you hear of anyone who is whelmed over. Do I hear voices? Don't you? Have you no memories? How do you silence a memory? There's that mute button on the remote but what about all those background noises. I imagine that senses aren't fifth dimensional just because we only list five sensory points. Our diction hasn't adapted to include the supernatural as reality even if life on this planet is always miraculous. If you can just get through, the rest of us will be certain to miss you. Don't let that door knob hit yah on your way through...♪ alone again? Naturally♪ Lyrics to favorite songs are tuned in on memory waves. There is a bird whose call I do not recognize trying to drown out the soft snore of the Boston Terrier bitch curled like a black and white caterpillar in the dirty white overstuffed easy chair/bed that is hers. She is not spoiled anymore than well rewarded children are spoiled. If they are rewarded well enough, they become better adults. I have been a trainer since my parents and better teachers taught me to love learning. Every now and again, I pause to consider where this is going and remember that I truly don't need to concern myself with too many details since most folks are too caught up in their own dramas to worry about me. I only need to figure out why this summer is either too hot and humid or too danged chilly. I never seem to know how to dress. What is the purpose for living? Will your life make a difference that matters? Are you getting through anytime soon?