I can't mop the floor. I'm busy.
I'm too tired to write.
It's too late to call my mother.
Now I've scrubbed my eyes with gravel,
drawn my hamstrings tight,
squeezed my lungs out circling on my
stationary bike.
I'm too tired to write.
It's too late to call my mother.
Now I've scrubbed my eyes with gravel,
drawn my hamstrings tight,
squeezed my lungs out circling on my
stationary bike.
Good old sloth. But would it be circling on the bike or sitting there eating pizza and watching TV?
ReplyDeleteI'd been thinking that there are multiple kinds of sloth, including the kind where you're so busy you wear yourself out without actually getting anything done. That's what I was hoping to capture--sounds like it could maybe use a re-think after NaPo.
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