My vengeance is swift and horribly inaccurate...apologies beforehand...

 

On the hammock of life, I’ve come to rest my head in indifference, between the comfy pillows of love & hate

Forgiveness is the fragrance that febrezes betrayal, but darn if its anti-microbials just mask the smell of revenge….At one point you get tired of holding a grudge, it’s like the poster from the 70s of the cat hanging on to the wire with the caption ‘Hang on Baby’…. I’m just tired, now I nestea plunge my feelings of vengeance into a pool of ‘whatever’; and trust karma to dole out the endless series of bitchslaps they so richly deserve….in spite of hearing about it way later, when the poignancy of just desserts has no meaning…not even numbness….who cares. It’s worse than indifference, it’s a cringe of ‘Really?’


It’s not even a rewriting the past, as revision takes effort…it’s like a project that lost it’s funding or a gold town that ran dry…or anything that runs dry…not that being sweaty is so ideal either…