Tonight I write.
Tonight I write; for right and for spite, the trite and the bite, the oversight, wanting to take flight. Tonight I type; taking a swipe, addressing the hype, the time beyond ripe for this healing gripe. Tonight a diatribe, with a fighter's vibe I'm taking a gibe and as I ascribe I cease to imbibe. ...and the big sigh is a sure sign. Time to do this line by line. When I first started this little bit of processing I was one day short of a year in writing again. Of course, now that I've taken some time to re-think the direction of where I was going with this particular train of thought, I have missed the mark by 19 days. Ah well. This one day short phenomenon happens often with me and writing/journaling. One day short of a month, one day short of a week, one day short of a decade... It's as if God has set some kind of one-day-shy alarm clock in me that makes me wake up one day before some kind of deadline that probably only seems important to me. I