I am (xx)

a mastered wreck
scarred with the ink of my impulse.

a masterpiece
carved by an artist in full convulsion.

a whisper
swiftly torn from your broken
lips.

a night filled with deep regret
and much holy water.

I am (xx)

I have yet to go through a day of work and not get stung by a bee. Today was no exception, I thought that maybe I had done it when 5:30 came around and I was cleaning off my feet getting ready to go home. but, alas, a single bee managed to get caught up in my bangs and it stung me visciously on the forhead. I now have a lump the size of a toony over my left eye, thank god for the slice.