Mom, I'm going to sweep

Instead I'm sitting here, "writing."

I am sick of being bigoted and vindictive and narrow-minded.

If I have no art or craft, then perhaps I have the will to put one word after another to communicate my thoughts.

I think that anyone who deals with shame has to begin with the strength that taking friendships from themselves destroys.  I hate sentences like that (Just to let you know).

I am worth love.

I am no better than you.

I am no worse than you.

I am not you.

Keeping this rowdy cruel angry freak after I have been at odds with the many people who have liked the aspects of my presentation that involve freedom and good seems odd and perhaps stupid or useless.

I wish to move on.  Is that up to me or to something else?

I cannot keep making love the only freedom that I aspire to.  I cannot believe that no one will ever be loving.  I have my mother.  I have my brother.  I have a roof over my head.  I have food to eat and books to read.  I have this computer and a blog to write in.

Now:  Save me from this broken piece of pain.

I never needed that money.  I never needed that cruelty.  I never needed that mess.

Always know that I have what I need because I have been hopeful.

I will never know the love of the trees.  I will never know the freedom of the homes.

I know what is happiness.  This is my life.

Road to change is love.

Maker of beauty and maker of hope are the ones I was true to.

Change begins with a song:  

Lap frays laundry with lakes.

I believe the life of this woman is art.

I wish for a chick.