My imperfect words

I can only give you my imperfect words distorted from frail letters that I engineer without integrity into crumbling steps. I am not the editor and they are all I have alternating back and forth driving direction or none taunting me by braving new territory then dissolving into blankness. There is no space to bloom…

Therapy today: Perfection vs oblivion

My therapist called me a hermit crab today. She’s also called me a clam in the past. [Insert joke about being shellfish here]. I deflected by talking about when I accidentally brought a hermit crab back from the Caribbean. Plucky little thing survived the flight home, but probably not the English winter when I set…