Bird of Passage

This week wore me like a dress with the tag still on.  

 It seems that everyone around me is arguing God against Science, as if there's any argument at all.  We only have our words distilling fat thoughts that have all been thought before, or maybe never.  Which do you prefer, loneliness or company?  Its not a fair polarity.  I don't know what is.

You put your hands where you put your hands and you said, "Please _________,  ____  __  ______  __  ____".  You'd said it all before, but this time you meant it in a different way.  Maybe your luck would improve.  Or maybe you'd just get another dumb generic Yogi Tea fortune about the center being within or some such facebook-update-worthy tripe.  The truth is, Thursday morning you were trying not to cry but by afternoon, you wanted to strangle somebody.  You notice 'strangle' is one letter removed from 'stranger'.  You still don't know what BDSM stands for exactly, but you know what it means.

The time to catch up in written word has come and gone a thousand times, and although it appears laziness is the prevention point, there is something lurking underneath, pulling at the dark bedsheets over its head, quietly.  This is where I live; this is how I love.  So you could chalk it up to laziness or sly depression, but you're the one who noticed when the world took a breath and held it.  Something was about to happen.  And you were fucking right.