I am at the end of my rope, this is the end of the line, my back is against the wall, I am up the creek without a paddle. Increasingly the bats are loose in the belfry, I have just one oar in the water(I could only find one of the paddles), my elevator does not go to the top floor very often, the butter has slipped off the corn and my cabbage has gone over the hedge.
Finding myself on this particular rolling Sine wave of the X and Y axis, I just do not give much Llama spit about anything. I can lose it all, scrape the bottom, guild the lily, screw the pooch and receive a smacking from a mackerel. I will rise to the next occasion, climb out of the grave, be among the counted, again, get up off the canvas and most likely produce the same old sins in the newest ways all over again and I just do not care one iota.
Just for a reference, I looked up Iota and I still do not know what it means. I am not sure I am using the word correctly or even if the word I wanted was a real word anyway. Big Flippin Woop. I Could care less, be concerned in the least, cast dust in the wind, throw mama from the train, get DeVeto confused with DeNiro or pee in the wind for that matter. Slap me silly, kick my ass, rattle my chain, toot my whistle and I may come close to being back among the living. Maybe not.
Where do I go from here, which way is up, a dirt nap, a last dance, a final ring around the Rosy, who cares. I do not.
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