I holy no me not
Me bad goat
I be mad though
I bad low the dead grass grows
I with teathered tongue speak like this.
It’s sad though.
I want my lips to listen to the light bulbs.
I wish I could escape from my emotions when I engage in intellectual activities.
I can completely disengage.
I can turn off.
I just can't be half way.
I need a dimmer switch for my emotions
I can be a disengaged teatherball, with foolish inertia.
I can be a puddle of chunky mud.
But I can also be an engine.
And in those moments I cannot disengage.