Nov 08, 2005 18:41
I never thought it could be more. I never thought I wanted more, but I crave it with every breath. Me, and you, and the spin
/
Then, there is the house mistake of the dimly rooted (faintly outlined and lacking luster, of course): they see me (inexplicable prancer that I am), or watch, or talk, or all three, or none, thinking: a little twelve, a straight board; fun house?
/
not to worry, my child, seedling and web handed wonder worker of the plains(my internalized triggers), the line (our line, my line, your line) always brings out the ghost ... now, is it so terrible that I find some odd satisfaction from creating the pale?