Decisions

Sometimes I have so, so hard to chose it rips my heart out.
Like when you’re handed a menu, and – everything – looks good to read.
It’s like the Wild West again. Or prison.
Point being, it’s fucked up hard to decide.
So you go for both.
Your body’ll probably thank you with a fat-punch in the love handles while your brain reminds you of the full-summer-with-a-T-shirt-on coming up.
But you’re too busy shoving another piece of Apple Crunch into your mouth, soothing the curiosity of what the merged taste of it and Chocolate Fudge cake is to notice.