Saturday, April 28, 2012


Dear Crossfit
I'm typing this letter from the grave.
Because you have murdered me today.

Dear Push Press
Remember that time when I
was practicing you and slammed
the bar into my face? No?
Guess it was a little more memorable
for me.
{lacking in coordination}

Dear Scones
I freaking want your English
 bready body like no body's 
business. I've been craving
you for legit a week. 
{Who wants to find me some?}

Dear Oral Surgery Rotation
I'm super happy I only have one week left.
And except for the one day where all the
residents hated me, I've kinda enjoyed you.
{Hospital Assistants said I was in first 
place for extractions. Win!}

Dear Self
Lets get real.
It doesn't mean anything. And it
doesn't mean that you should let
that wild imagination go running.
{Doesn't matter}

No comments: