wonder what
next time
brings
left empty lost control
crying in the corner
last
things wanted
not to worry
flush
roll out the roses
bring in the dogs
when
i don't want
in the end
too late
too long.
Attention all: no longer shall I burden you with what ails me! No longer shall I proclaim bold stances, shout ill thought solutions, or type wary claims of clarity for all to see...
No… from now on, I will fill these pages with the fiction of my life, not the bare, hard, sad truth. Look to me no longer for soulful reflections, thoughtful dissertations, or peculiar confessions. The man known as Rob will no longer be an open book; nay, fine reader. “Closed indefinitely,” says the sign o’er my heart, for I’ve locked the door, with the key safely inside.
I now declare myself repressed, and better for it.
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