Hot Little Pain.

One way that works for me.
As in, I have to find it.
Sitting here and feeling as if the time is far later.
Time is a tricky little fucker that way.
But that isn’t the whole show.
Many a joke can be bled from the other truths.
We base our freaky little world on them.
Slick little fingers telling the story of a slick little mind.
Small troubles like the tips of frozen floating shit.
These troubles can still wreck your juju.
Because they can grow.
Like zombies and road kill, they might have been cute once.
Distraught wanderings of the ones who care and wonder why.
How the hell can someone be wrong and right?
I like the feeling of closeness. Intimacy.
But I hate the feeling of doubt.
And I rarely hate.
Know that the edge draws its own curve.
And a smile, if right, will win.