Tardy

I woke up late this morning...

AGAIN.

  thirty minutes has me praying for a miracle that the time space continuum will be suspended and that the laws of physics will somehow cease to exist. None-the-less I emerge from my apartment, scanning the lot through dark and heavily made up eyes, I throw my bag of digital accessories over my shoulder, juggle my coffee to go and make a run for the bus...

in three inch heels.

welcome to my life.

  And, as the morning pulses with the heartbeat of a city rising, I am the darting shadow of a scattered girl and her collection of multi-colored excuses as she flies out the door . I am the girl who adorns herself in complexities, not because its the fashionable thing to do or because everyone  else is doing it but because it makes me impossible to chart, and I can hide in those folds so easily while  Shopping for second hand personalities on 6th street.

"Who shall we wear today?"

"Am I the Ghetto Debutante?"

or

"the Wanna-Be Luv Child?"

I do this because the real girl underneath is still so scared and raw.

Always missing her mark..

She's late for her entire life.

Shes like a perfect Saturday morning on a Sunday afternoon.

 

~DannyLynne~

Reviews

[roarke]

Perfect Saturday morning on a Sunday afternoon.... Nothing wrong with that. In a word, enjoyable.