Faith
My faith did the drama diva swan dive off the Golden Gate Bridge when I almost peeled out from Graves' disease . Over the past year, I've been working on faith restoration in every area of my life. Let me tell ya, it ain't easy. I have good days and bad days. Days when I am so in the flow of faith-- if we bonded any harder, I'd spontaneously combust from being overly faithed . Other days, I want to fuck faith in the ass with a giant cock the size of the Chrysler building sans lube. My faith is moody, tempestuous and unreliable. I know it's there, it's just a matter of rekindling it. Pre-Graves' I was a very idealistic broad. And now my idealism is fractured. When it surfaces, it's a beauuutiful thing. Today for example, I have been reading Wade Agnew's poetry books A Desultry Way and Solace for a Starving, Naked, Alone In The Dark Soul (does that scream KATIE or does that scream Katie?! Please...) The boy has serious poetry chops. I'm falling ...