Friday, January 06, 2006

A World Crushed Beneath My Feet @ approx. 7:31 a.m.

Polly Pocket, I cry for you. You have so carefully arranged your shopping schedules and horseback riding picnics and fashion shows each afternoon. Your tiny shoes and your tiny feet and your perfect blonde locks and your itsy-bitsy sweater sets and your perfect pets ( all with their own tiny little matching sweater/shoe ensembles.) I cry for you because now I have to lay down on the couch and pull each little spike of plastic out of my foot, stop the bleeding, sweep you into a pile and restrain myself from throwing you all in the trash compactor. I cry because I have to lay you out across the Formica table and try and glue you all back together before RO-bot gets home from school. I cry because I have to pretend as if I didn't enjoy destroying the capitalistic bullshit society that I have crushed beneath my feet, hold back the satisfaction of ending what complete ignorance you stand for in this world. And my coffee has gotten cold. Damn.


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