Guys I’m heading home now because I’m not feeling so hot.
It isn’t the weather this time. It’s my heart.
My heart feels like an abandoned fire station outside of Boise.
My heart feels like a well-dressed child.
It feels like a penny. :(
Because you traipsed all over it, my heart feels like a pig farmer’s entryway carpet.
I just don’t feel so hot, and I don’t want to get poetic about it.
I want to do something. I feel like standing up and saying something.
I feel like saying, “Hey world, it’s my turn.”
Because you jacked it up, my heart feels like a million second guesses.
It feels like a spleen, post-splenectomy.
Do you know what a real circus is like?
Have you bathed in the warm light of the moon wearing nothing but pajamas?
My heart feels like the opposite of that now that you’ve elbowed it on your way somewhere more interesting.
Kind of took the wind out of me, so I’m heading home.
Nothing personal. Nothing impersonal, either.