14th May 2009

It is cold, and the stress ball in my throat bobbles up and down.
Stupid people, toppling and tumbling over,
Ew old woman,
stop trying to act young.
Dare you be so rude should you be so fat to fit.

Semiotics shows,
that people sit on a step when it is safe,
as one crosses a road when it is safe.
For one does not wish to be trod on.
Day by day, glaring at a blank white wall,
I wonder if people make preferences.

For I have no choice,
whether there are many or none.
Whether I have lost my pen lid or not.