32/40

each of the remaining eight weight me down with an increasing heartache

eight ponderous anchors, rusty indeed

-

i wish i could blame it on

"the anxiety of having to use a calculator with fading, virtually transparent numbers on its screen"

and say

"it's so unfair, you'd freak out if your calculator broke down seconds before your big business"

*how much more ill-fated can you get?

"then you've gotta rush around the office like a mad cow

tryna borrow one under the austere, dissaproving-and not to mention "i-told-you-so" glints impinged on you

-

but if i had retained my composure and tranquility instead,

there would have been a slight twist to what lies before my eyes now

so in the end all the blame is projected on solicitousness instead

-

to me,

poignant regrets don't mean failing without knowing how you did

it's to fail when you knew exactly what you could have done

but couldn't have done so

-

best regards to you,

gracias por hacer mi dia

usted es el faro de luz en la oscuridad inmensa