Sugar, Spice, N Everything Nice.

My thoughts of her rise to the top,

like fizzy bubbles in my soda pop.

Short Poem

She set sail from the harbor on the last remaining ship, she had burnt all the rest.

I couldn't blame her. I understood why she did it,

as I stood on the shore with all my baggage in hand.

Of number twos.

Some may not give a shit (or two).

Others may take a shit.

Me, I often have a shit,

when people sometimes lose their shit.

😐🫴🏻🐉

I've forgotten where exactly.

My fat ass: *looks at the nutrition label*

"If you adjust calories for inflation, I'm actually under eating."

Title: Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Medium: Digital Camera

Artist: Local Idiot

Six Word Story

Last one alive, closes the door.

Coffee thought.

Why aren't cookies called, Bakies? You don't cook them, you bake them.

People have the wonderful ability to tell you exactly what they need; most of the time they don't mean what they say.