I can sit.Read print.
Pretty, pretty princess.
Or you could think that I’m the life of the party!
Dancing, laughing, masking…what’s really in control of the laugh, and the dance.
I must be digressing.
It must be so!
I sit in cartoon covers, with secret red fuzzy solace.
Clutter piled high.
Old dinners.
Spilled drinks.
I think I need a change.
A quick rearrange…or an evolving one.
I feel the quicksand rising…
Or it’s just me sinking…
Either way, I’m going down.
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