A Whole Lotta Love
Haven’t stepped out all day. As
if escape were possible. The im
penetrable husk of this hermit
sees to that. How’d I wriggle
myself into this pickle? I lock
my door from the inside. Sure,
I zip out on occasion for essentials.
But then I’m back again. How I’ve
found comfort spending years in
this sweatbox seems like such a
conundrum. And I’d ditch this
place. I would. if only I could
find enough of a difference
