77 Words (11-19-11)

November 19, 2011 — Leave a comment

Expectations don’t suit me.

They’re a welcome mat that hangs out on the doorsteps of failure.

And that welcome mat has been thrashed.

And it’s been vomited on.

It’s been spit on.

And on the surface it has layer upon layer of dried tears that were cried by angels and gunslinging optimists.

You can’t burn it.

You can’t discard it or

give it to your enemies.

No.

Those are your failures.

And mine.

They belong to us.

 

Advertisements

No Comments

Be the first to start the conversation!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s