November 23, 2019•149 words
It was so brave of me to wake up this morning.
It was so brave of me to hold in a scream.
It was so brave of me to weather the anguish.
It was so brave of me to live in-between.
If Trump and the oc-T-cult are Christians, Christianity can't die soon enough. Even God himself isn't able to turn these bitter waters sweet.
A rainy day.
A gray day.
A darkest of dark coffee day.
Heavy-laden with cream and bourbon
Let the morning have its say.
Is there anyone else besides me that enjoys an al dente banana? One that has not quite knocked on sugar's door?
There were nightmares last night.
One belonged to me.
And still in the light of morning
The day I cannot see.
Phyllis Stokes. A beautiful spirit in need of universal peace and beauty. Deliver yours.
More later. There's always more later.