Self-C(aw)are

I should have did my face masque two weeks ago. Scrub the bacteria, germs, regret, and depression that are imbedded in my pores. Laziness. Procrastination. Poor time management. I should have clipped my toenails. Buffed the bottom of my feet to silk. Filed my toenails to a straight, neat, square. Coated them with Wet ‘N’ Wild Cherry Red. Extract walks of shame and poor choices from them. Laziness. Procrastination. Poor Time Management. At least I got my hair done. Flowing waves of jet black hair, surround my face. Protective styling it’s called. Protect my mind from thoughts of low self-worth, fading confidence, and non existent self-esteem. Unorganized. Car looks as though a tornado hit. Paperwork, clothes, shoes, dishes. Moving. Moved three times in six months. A whirlwind in my chest. “Self-Care is paramount”. With what time. I barely have time to breathe. But self-care is breathing. So I spark, inhale and exhale complaints about my disorganized life. Not one fuck is no longer given.