Finding things to do at work other than work is still a job.

I have bitten my hand, at that soft bit where the bone is deeper, the imprint where my thumb bone reaches back to the rest of my wrist. I see that the imprints from my teeth look an awful lot like a pair of lips. Open and sultry, almost begging for rusty lipstick, hair from yarn, and a little loving. This, I find amusing, like a commercial for soap that cleans both the dishes and the skin. I look down at it again and see: two small moles, just above, pale brown and looking back at me from the most perfect spaces.

So, I am waiting for class but did not do its readings (they were historical and I just do not have the patience for that, now) and suddenly I cannot speak using contractions and want only to lay on the grasssssssssssssss.