Sorry I Wrote So Many Sad Poems Today by Tracy Dimond
Tracy Dimond promises Freudian slips for the next morning. At some point Freud’s descendants really need to begin a clothing line of ‘Freudian slips’. People need slips. Who better to sell it than Freud who popularized the term slip making it far sexier than its original intention? Sure the nude mornings are fine. Everybody is naked in the morning and evening. Daytime is stupid though. More people need to be more naked during the daytime. Life would be better. With greater nudity RVs could really earn the title ‘Recreational Vehicles’.
Innocent strands hide from Tracy. They want to remain untouched. Hands go everywhere. During moments of depression hands hurt. Poor hands have nobody to hug during the sad moments of life. Milkshakes alleviate the sadness. Food in general should not be a problem or solution to anything. Food offers no wisdom or answers with the sole exception of those wise sages, the Veggie Tales. Here she tries to send mail for some reason. Mail is pretty bleak. Every piece of mail is reminiscent of a time when mail mattered. At this point the Postal Service is better known as EMO collaborations than as an institution.
Hearts work hard. Two holidays are dedicated to the heart: Valentine’s Day and Arbor Day. Both holidays are highly revered. Tracy wonders how the heart can focus on others. Poor hearts have it hard enough getting broken all the time. Sharing a heart can be a beautiful experience. Despite the pain of a sad old heart the heart loves sharing. When two hearts sync up it is wonderful. Hearts just want to beat together just like people want to be together.
Friday nights are alright for masturbation, get a little action there. People hide indoors on lonely Friday nights. Many Friday nights are disappointments. What better thing to do than simply spend a quiet evening with some ‘alone hand’ time? Here Tracy nails it with a Facebook relationship status non-update. Every known Facebook relationship status update barely means anything. When people are in a relationship they get a like, and when they break up, they get a like. It is always the same thing.
Jackets are the skins of winter. Each jacket has a little skin in it. That’s part of the old jacket smell. Someone confuses Tracy for another Tracy. Every Tracy from across the world should make a pact to come together. Hence the Tracy people can ensure that they are not confused for anybody else. Poor Tracy has yet to do such a thing. Rather Tracy listens to a guy talk about his girlfriend. Tracy wants to get laid. Girlfriend talk rarely leads to sex however. That’s not the way things work.
With each pull of a pedal a flower dies at Tracy’s hands. She enjoys torturing the tulips. Sexily she turns off the air conditioner while she leads someone to her apartment. Clearly she wants them to meet the flirty flowers. Obviously the tearing apart of flowers helped her out, helped her decide what needed to be done.
Sad stories are contained within the pretty poems. These hurt a little but they are necessary. Life sometimes contains hurt. How people deal with it is what defines them.