Well, I started this thing with a poem and well, I'm gonna finish it with one too....whenever that might be.

I can't even tell you why I might be willing to put myself out there with some really shitty poetry but I guess I'm just trying to make a "journal" of all the shit I write-- incase I die and my family can't figure out my password to my phone.

This poem on the Instagram post #poetryisnotaluxury got me thinking:

SHORT LECTURE ON YOUR OWN HAPPINESS

You know how to write poetry, it is all you need to be happy,

but you will not be happy, you will be miserable, thinking you 

need so many other things, and in years and years of misery

you have only one thing, as poets, to look forward to, the day

you will not want what you haven't got, the thing you have got

is poetry, let nothing cheat, or deflect you from it, even

poetry itself.  Why are you sitting there? You should have fled

before I finished the first sentence.

--Mary Ruefle

My latest written while driving (DON'T EVER DO THIS) over the App Gap:

I've been thinking about what's been...what used to be.

I used to be

I used to be thin

a size 4 in spots

with a six pack in the ribs

I spent time counting calories and

fat grams

now I count blessings 

and grey hairs

which are moving into the corners

of brows furrowed with worry

I sometimes wish I could go back

to that body

but never to that soul

who worried too much about what 

people thought

and now it's the abhorrent love

handles that I've got (get) to hold

onto 

the confidence that I so desired

but couldn't find

that I get to cling to-

a badge that I am

 a woman