Scampering from Inferno.
Dear Salamander,
The world is constantly getting weirder.
My grandfather's currently on a rant about pillowcases.
Two cups of coffee always makes me bathroom break. There's a drug or an addiction for every madness.
There's a community whereabouts you can put to rest letters that never made the cut for delivery, salvation for letters that will otherwise perish festering with decay in the hollows of a lonely mind.
Royalty is off to fight a war that is otherwise forgotten and stagnant.
Clocks are being set forward...but it's not Daylights Savings. The supposedly smartest people in the world have resigned to setting the second hand closer to the full clockwise cycle and made their statement of a species doomsday. Is there such a thing as apathy that influences all. Far-blown self-victimization.
But,
pick up a can of paint
or scour for tickets to a favorite show.
Don't forget your own grocery list of life
lest it should be buried so far in your pocket
you forget
a sense of
self-needs distracted by all the mark-downs and cereal-box price inflation in the aisles.