Saturday, January 05, 2013


Unexpectedly, I have kindled a love for the word perturbed. Like a dusty heirloom bell from Aunt Imonapeea's nightstand, I finally hear you. Annoyances, I have dealt with decidedly. Perturbances are mosquitos that you tip your hat to. To be perturbed is to show respect for an asshole that will never close. A reluctant treaty. Band aids on a mole. I see you now and even if I have to eat glitter, I will sparkle a fart.