The day is long and often I'll take my glasses off to remove their rigid arms pressing between my ears. I pinch my nose to relieve the weight of the armor that sits there stagnat. As I look down on my red mahogony desk I see white flakes and a lash. A rather long lash I think before I realize it's not a lash but a lone eyebrow hair. Skratching at my brows I watch small flakes drift down to settle on the dark background. They smile at me those little pieces of departed skin saying, "sensen blue where are you?" Their comment makes me wonder, where else do I have dandruff?
Like I've been told--"Getting old isn't for woosies."
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