Fetal position this morning instead of a job orientation makes a snowstorm seem easy. I have been reading the news and feeling uninspired to jump into Capitalism. Catapultism.
I want a lovin' spoonful. A catapult of sugar cubes.
The cubicle is not calling,
I want to live in Turkey on the beach with palm trees and I will weave rugs all day to pay for my shack to live in.
I want to live in the ocean on a rock covered in seaweed. I want a crown made of tropical flowers.
I want cinnamon scent to wake me up every morning and cupid to sit on my pillow while I sleep. I want cupid to drink my blood from a syphon.
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