I’m no expert
I must confess that I suspect we are all in this together but we’re all very much alone. I wish I had the answers or a lock in on the patterns to elucidate the masses, but I’m no closer to finding meaning than when my face is planted in dirt.
Scraps of love to hold me through the hard days that squeak by. There’s no one shielding me from myself, though. Maybe Lola.