My shrink said it best; “what about your input?” My diet coach yelled belittling: ‘Do you have any output?’ Every night while watching a certain movie, I answered. To lose weight you have weight to gain. Taste a burrito, have a hundred slices of pizza, drawn in coke. Hitting the gym, crunching …
Deserted hallway, makeshift coffee. We beat it today, May. BLEEP-BLEEP-BLEEP! Do something! Only a couple of hours, to deliver in the Bush land.
The blessings of a weekend are still so far away. I feel tired. That’s new, but apparently, something being 37 does to you. I have to pay for a wild past, I seem to forget stuff, not being to cope with the speeding time. Will this last? Death is breathing in my neck. Heck, just …
You brought me to be. A labour of love. Now you lay there, vulnerable, my time to worry, I have to remain strong. Be okay, please. I still have your lease, on happiness, put my mind at ease, I hold your hand, squeeze. Mom, pull trough, I love you.
Coughing two months cough cough Spread. The doctor looks serious. Poison in my blood. Cure. Doesn’t work. Family at my bed? No not after bad things said. Lungs full of blood. Death at last. cancer is a bitch