Pep Talk / Personal Superbowl

there was something wonderfully wrong about the way things were going, everything was not as it seemed, things appeared cracked and closer then they actually were, like the mirrors on a beat up getaway car. there was a slow unravel of my surroundings and it hung loosely, casting a seductive veil like a promiscuous move of a slightly older out of shape women. this feeling was omnipresent. i'd be squeezing a tough avocado at the market and know it was there lingering, and when i spun a teaspoon in my black coffee-- as if i was adding that feeling to the liquid to consume and harbor inside of me. there was a beautiful out of sort-ness that was matter of fact in my routine and as much as i tried to ignore it, i felt as if it was oozing from my pores, a condensation, reveling my unexpected hot and coolness toward the sinking ship of my character. there was something perpetually blooming inside of me and as i involuntarily tried to slink out from under it i hadn't realized all along, all along that time of weirdness, i was there reigning right over it, on top of myself, hands full of my own shirt collar yelling into my own face like a crazed football couch about to win the Superbowl.