In the wee hours of the morning, lit up by the hazy orange lights of Burleith, I ponder the deep questions of my life: what if my youth is flying past me as I try to grasp it like smoke in the air? What if my tummy hurts because I didn’t get enough fiber today?
Another question percolates in my mind, and the poetic atmosphere begins to take me.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I have to travel either
And be one woman, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where the rats scurried in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, just as full of hair,
And perhaps having the wetter claim,
Because it was horny and wanted derriere;
Though as for that passing there
Had scorned me really about the same,
And both that evening equally lay
In dignity I desperately wanted back.
Oh, I damned the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if he would ever stop playing with his ballsack.
I shall be telling this with a cry
Somewhere incels and rodents hences:
Two roads diverged by some guy’s wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has given me fucking rabies.
