I’m letting life pile up, no easy way out. I need to stop for a minute, take on a new perspective. Focus on the small to make view of the big. I’m putting my glasses on, I’m having a case of spontaneous myopia.

I’m trying to keep it together, I promise, I am. But I feel like I’m doing nothing, and at the same time, all that I can.

Give a little bit…give a little bit…give a little bit–no, give a little lot, of your love to me. I don’t want to give in.  But baby there you go again. There you go again making me love you.

Hey….hey baby. Ooh. Ahh. I wanna know, oh oh oh. Oh. Oh. If you want me to be your girl. Just give me one more night…it’s just somebody that I used to know.

Shel keeps falling up but Alicia is falling in, and out but I just know it’s for Mr. Serotonin that I’m falling for. And he comes in many forms…Hershey’s (I like ’em, they give me kissies), Ghirardelli, Godiva….you name it. I know Mr. Queen, singer Mercury favored the latter.

I’m addicted to your chocolate high….musiq soul child, borrowing some soul from Mr. James B. and getting some wisdom from the little ones.

Oh sugar…aw, honey honey. I am your candy girl, and it comes at a perfect time: Halloween!

A little witch I know comes from this spooky day and she sure knows how to work her magic my way.

Why are artists so crazy? Why do we need to suffer to produce? I make much a many great (whatever that means–but hey, Woody Allen says, whatever works, right?) when I suffer.

I can’t take it–I need to let it out. Get back, get back….get back to where you once belonged! But where do you belong? Where do I? If only we could ask Waldo….he seems to fit in everywhere.

I’m checking to check it out–I choke–the chocolate, oh no, oh yes–will do the trick. Trick or treat. And about that costume? Spontaneity is the way to go.

Spur of the moment. Not my forte (the surname is misleading) even though  I enjoy leading the way. It’s not that easy—but it can come as a life-saver. The candy, the figure, the literate. Whatever works (Mr. Allen is getting some good space here).

I just need…I just need….I…JUST….justice, juste. Juice. Justice juice. Jambo juice. Jambo. (Isn’t that hi in Swahili? Props to Muna). Justice dances. Just Dance. Just Do It. *Checkmark*. Check. Che-Che-Che-Che, Check Che Out (like the Guevara).

I’m sorry….I’m really sorry…I didn’t mean..I mean, I meant…you mean, yes, you were mean. I’m sorry I like one direction, at least they know where they’re going.

And leave me out of it, leave me, left, OUT. Done. Slam. Dunk? -in, donuts. Doh (Homer). Dough. Duh? Doug, haha. Funny.

Discover…roll the dice. I heard there’s been a case of lice. I see it all. I feel it. Elephants. Rupa and the April Fishes. Just do the dance. Do it. Doing it. Done.

It’s just…..something in the way she moves. Has got me feeling like no other. Something in the way she moves…me.

The way you groove is a mystery. Like that Friday….oh those friday night lights. Or was it Saturday? You those nights with the fever. Travolta would know.

Zombie peaches. Peachy. It’s furry, it’s old, like mold, from Ice Age (III). It’s orange, it’s yellow…it’s mellow yellow. Guitar solo, please.

Oh those musicians…mellow is the way to go. Mellowing your melting down to the last drop. Drop it low, drop it love, just drop it.

I don’t know, I don’t know….you’re asking me, will it grow? You’ve missed the water and the light and the affection, stupid. I thought you had a degree? Only if it’s Celcius…oh I’m sorry, forgive me. I forgot you only do Fahrenheit. I guess that makes us incompatible.

Apples and Oranges. I see fruits, I see citrus. But I guess you only see red and orange. To you it’s all black and white, black and yellow. And it’s leaving me grey, it’s leaving me blue. I wish I could just leave you.

I thought you’d take me there…to para-para-paradise. Just like a prayer. I know–it would feel like home. Home alone. (Did you know I share a birthday with Macaulay? Oh yeah, fun fact).

I close my eyes, but it just opens a portal to another world. But now is not the time. Not again. It’s 2am. I have responsibilities. I have duties. I need energy. Energy to fight. The sheep have been counted, the relaxing music heard, the yoga shenanigans conquered. But apparently stubborn is my head’s only way. Way to go. Not.

It’s like a dream to me. Dream dream dream. Dream did Chagall. I love you. Thank you for your art.

Where art thou? No romeos, please. I’ve become allergic. Just “atta” boy will do. But I’ve recently heard they are an endangered species. And we all know how much this world cares about preserving nature, the environment. Oh yeah, I guess nothing to worry about there. Hunf.

It’s just the way you make me feel….oh MJ. Oh, it’s Center Stage. I believed I’ve misplaced the center of my stage. The view from here is awfully lopsided. Oh my–maybe we’re not in Kansas anymore, dear readers.

Cuz I gotta have faith. I gotta have faith faith faith-ah. I just can’t help to think of yesterday. Of tomorrow. But I’ve seemed to have misplaced my present. Oh wait–it’s not Christmas yet. Got it Santa.

Drum roll please. Just give me some Benny. Benny and the Jets. Not Jetsons, I said, Benny! Benny and the je-je-ets.

It’s just all the right moves in all the right places. But where I am coming from, two rights are making a wrong. A—no. Many, wrongs. Fine. Wrong it out. I’m out.

We’re going down. Down to where it all began. I need to, I’m sorry. I have to get to the bottom of it. The truth. Where has it gone?

God only knows where I’d be without you. After all, all you need is love.

No games, please. I’m sick of playing. This is not a playground zone, no need to respect the speed limit. Just GO! It’s green, can’t you see? I’ve been there and back, and no sign of you. I think I’ve lost you along the way. A pattern so well-developed it will make a great quilt someday. But I don’t want just memories, I want the real thing now. The present. Where has it gone? It’s swept you with it. Sigh, here we go again.

I asked to turn it up a notch, to place in another knot. Oh gosh. Communication problems. I guess that’s what you get for being a foreigner. A foreigner no matter where you go.

It’s almost midnight, the Cinderella moment is but a few minutes away. Time is ticking, it’s closing it up, it’s locking me out. But I’ve only just begun, where am I to go then?

I guess I’ll just have to wait. I’ve been waiting my whole life, what’s a few more minutes going to cost me? But I’m at the borderline, I’m at the tip of the ship. And you’ve missed your cue, so I guess waiting is done for me. The only waiter here is my server, and he’s just about to give me my food. So bon appetit. It’s all the same to me.

*Crystal shoe*