Lesson 223 ~SORRY, In Capital Letters~

Not for all the tea in China, see even that makes me feel like I owe an apology, but nobody is getting one unless they have four legs and fit snuggly in my bed or two and some good assets, then I’m sure I’ll know one word. “SORRY, In Capital Letters”

Friday, February 9, 2018

Lesson 223 ~SORRY, In Capital Letters~

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Love Story

Hey Lady Sophia,
I Am Not Afraid Anymore, talk about job security, I never love anybody so that’s why I am perpetually in business and what about that account for my day job? Something I’m going to have to confess to Inspector Echo. My how I hate wasting words, a genocide of thought and I love writing and for that I’ll repeat it, I’m sorry.

Ironically probably my grandest love at the moment which of course is my dog, can’t read and as much as he tilts his cute little head, he doesn’t understand the word. In truth with all of my writing starting from my name to this moment I’m still trying to understand anything and everything. It might explain my depression and why I haven’t been writing because no one wants to comprehend not even me and as much as I wish I could say I’m beyond description, I’m not worth it sometimes.

“Shut up or die…” Pontypool

If anything Lady Sophia that’s been the lesson for this whole godawful week, shut up or become one of them, the infected cretins always just vomiting out whatever is right at the time. Fine, okay, happy, here’s something else I would never say, Trump is a genius, he may be a moron and say some horrible things but the thing about it is, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass what he says. He never says he’s sorry but what does that mean, how does Trump feel about the American people, if he can scream his thoughts to the world “honestly.”

You know something, I think Love Story (1970) has it wrong, love means always having to say you’re sorry, again I’m forever apologizing to the dog, but I didn’t say it at work. I don’t say it to my family, hell I know a woman that loves me, but I don’t tell her I’m sorry. Talk about being a hypocrite; I started this thinking I’m always offering up apologies but other than to my dog who else is there, me and of course Inspector Echo.

My lack of writing might mean that I finally don’t love myself to try and save myself anymore with my words, but that won’t do at all will it? Would it help if I told you I’m sorry, would it help if I wrote it down a hundred times just like I Will Have No Fear, what will it take for me to listen, listen, hear, and understand this one word SORRY, In Capital Letters?

I Will Have No Fear

Hear Me Out

Once upon a time I made a mom pretty “darn” angry, and it wasn’t my mom for once and I can’t say that this poem helped any. Hear Me Out, well to be fair I don’t even talk to my own mother or many people in my everyday life and still, I try to explain.

Hear me here
I wish you were dear
My girlfriend, my lover, or even a friend
So where do I begin
This isn’t the place
Or is this a waste?

Hear me there
Do you care?
What I have to say
I listen every day
… Okay, okay I’ll shut up
You’ve had enough

Hear me now
Better yet how
Freaking blocked me
You’re not listening
Or buying
Am I lying?

Hear me in
Is that a sin?
These screams
My dreams
Aren’t real
But you feel

What I am
Is not a good man?
Which I never cop to
But a fool
For freedom
So read on
Or don’t
You probably won’t

Hear me out
What I’m about
Sex and drugs
Death and blood
But to clock
And knock
Let me explain
Know my name
Am I too loud?
Just hear me out