I’m rational, and out of all the things that we are, the one before me is scared of me for what I ate.

To the superstitious, I'm worse than a shot of caffeine, But stop by a generous bakery and you might find luck unforeseen. I’ve deleted entire floors with my ominous sheen, Yet I'm just a number - what do YOU think I mean?

feeling disengaged or restless at best, this feeling can be hard to address. I come from no medium, no phone or external media, and my head is to full to decompress. I sit and write clues, to try and amuse, to beat out this feeling of dread.

Add an S to the end of the word and it becomes more then one. Add two S’s and you will end up with one. What is the word?

I carry your junk, and climb with grace, yet you shout in my stubborn face. I’ll give you sass, you’ll call me an A S S, but truth be told, I’ve got more class. I bray, I kick, I take no flack, but I will still haul you back.