what is up with the f^*king cat?
irritation. bent. wrong. snark built upon stress
missplacing my t's with y's and losing all hope for a future
where is this going? who is steering or stirring or reading ahead to be sure we add the sugar when necessary

who is watching the pot as she boils?
was i alone in the assumption of the two way street labeled as such and left to our own devices? could i have been that incorrect in my judgement, my spelling, my assertion? my forward trajectory...toward...when.
could i be in the wrong house?

it is quite possible, that.

it is quiet now. i could sneak out before he notices that we have left and left the cat behind. but who will create the new headline, the new footnote, the new meditation on what must be.?.
what happened to that cat? everytime the tea runs out another cup replaces the last. it is keeping me still long enough to finish the thought.
the thought that i hate him viscerally.