to lose ahold of one's shit
release the gently bitten tongue
the bobcat plowed the snow across the street, backing up frequently, from 2-7 a.m.
the lincoln police department non-emergency line operator working at 4 a.m. did not care. it's okay, i was chewed up in an emo panic-state and being perhaps somewhat unreasonable.
turning out of a parking lot today i almost hit a woman i didn't see; the slush was too deep and i was hanging halfway out on O so that i couldn't stop and she just windmilled and wailed angrily while my spinning tired sprayed and I screamed I'm SOR-ry I am SORRY SORRY I AM SORRY and then sat in the next errand's parking lot sobbing
a day ago i was the queen of cups over-flowing, and here i am whittled back to the bitter quick, slogging in last year's snow with last year's lamentable bullshit stinking under my nose.
it is not so bad to feel cold and hard like a war-horse with feathers in its mane;
nostril-plumes of steam spelling the words "fuck" and "you,"
no it is SO much better than the alternative
it is good to breathe the fresh clean air