What do you call an “incel”-masseuse? A massage-ynist. Cue the tumbleweed.
Just imagine how bad the joke I cut was. 🙂
Long is the amount of time since last we spoke. An unfortunate downside to finally achieving some semblance of physical health is a diminished opportunity to waste your time. Don’t worry, I’m certain to be run down by a wayward rickshaw or suffer some other similar cosmic seeming reversal soon. That’s just my style, baby.
Today’s poem seems fit for a children’s picture book. Perhaps a card of some sort given its extreme brevity. Picture something like two cartoon puppy best friends. Maybe a bumper sticker.
“Is Caring”, November 6, 2018
Alas there weren’t two
But I was not blue
For it meant the chance
To share with you.
A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.