popp'd 3.5 dry ounces of pre-pack'd, pre-butter'd love in the micro for 2:25 minutes at 3:55 a.m. hoping to wynd-down;

grabb'd my 255 page almost-overdue novel off the overload'd coffee table bearing the title of what sound'd an awfully lot like my already screw'd up day;

heat'd 5.5 ounces of cool filter'd water within the confines of a mug with an Oscar Wilde quote enamel'd in the color of anger warning me not to take life so serious;

ripp'd open the last 0.95 ounce pouch of a sinfully rich substance from my needy pantry that i knew would give my lack-lustre taste buds the craving of an oral quickie; (chocolate is never too tired)

saunter'd off to bed alone, vowing never to be burden'd by other people's problems, and discovering I've lied to myself when the next one calls to cry in my ear.

 
© 2005 cynth'ya lewis reed
    all rights reserved.