coming around

I try to write funny things but they all seem to come out as grave and tragic as ever, the words snaking around themselves and becoming overwrought. I guess the source of writing is description and lately the me I document and self-describe is odd, sensorily overwhelmed; damaged.

ha ha ha, trite

Also: I was volunteered to read at this reading the 13th and have no idea what the hell i'm going to read and everyone will judge me harshly and i need mental support regarding this from my poetry ladies what should i read aaagh why did i agree to this no really i'll be fine it'll be great