A chronology of life, an assemblage of my inner most feelings, thoughts & desires have fallen to the wrong hands. A private journal of mine has been printed, read & re-read, analyzed & over-analyzed, talked over & re-hashed. Featuring much pain & spiteful poison poems, along with full color photos of my new bod.
Hmmm. Perhaps his holiday hug meant nothing after all. Do they not have anything else better to fill their time with? An obsession on their part & hatred within, has escalated into small town drama, bitter gossip & petty crap that only we will laugh about. But what else could I have expected from the low life's of the community?
___
of this year of last
resurfaced all my past
how little did I know
I'd love my only foe
behaviors now modified
taken all in one good stride
looking ahead to start anew
hike & hope not to see you
what is it that I've done so wrong
only wanting to not belong
my purpose is here you see
breaking the mold, skillfully
choosing to share, all that I care
loosing me now, ever to dare
you think you know me oh-so-well
simply I say - you can go to hell
