...laughter, less alchohol, more tea, less meat, more vegetables, less...
Do the scars on one's body truly tell a story? How are you to know that the scars are not from something less significant? For instance, a simple 3mm scar on someone's palm may be more than just a third grade pencil mishap. It could have been the difference between death or a boring knife fight story. But, how would you know? Is asking enough? Can spoken word be taken that seriously when involving matters that may invoke tiny relapses in fear and/or anger and the truth may be too much to re-tell?
Paper cuts, ciggerette burns, box burns, razor burns, razor attempts, gun shots, fork slips, or plastic butter knife fun...
What do the scars on my body tell me?
Much to do. About nothing.
General Mills was a brave soldier. His survival depended solely on his lucky charms, with no help from the frosted flakes that he called "fellow men". But, those guy's belonged to Kellogg, anyway, so, it was no concern. Life is funny. It's a honey bunch o' nuts one minute, then it's all tricks, the next. Special K forces will never forget the deeds from the kicks that he pulled. All should bow a cheerie O' to him, when they see him.
When the tape was played backwards, everything seemed to fit fine. One size too big? Not the least. She just popped right into those jeans.
When the song was played forward, they heard voices in the thick of the music. They couldn't make out the murmmers, so they dissected the tune. Inside, they found complex riffs, diverse drum beats, and smooth, raspy vocals.
The pirate's treasure (or subliminal messages) where no where to be heard.
So, after they all put their clothes on, they mopped up the goat's blood, and apologized to their mothers. They really didn't mean to say those mean words.
Sub-Fin.
Paper cuts, ciggerette burns, box burns, razor burns, razor attempts, gun shots, fork slips, or plastic butter knife fun...
What do the scars on my body tell me?
Much to do. About nothing.
General Mills was a brave soldier. His survival depended solely on his lucky charms, with no help from the frosted flakes that he called "fellow men". But, those guy's belonged to Kellogg, anyway, so, it was no concern. Life is funny. It's a honey bunch o' nuts one minute, then it's all tricks, the next. Special K forces will never forget the deeds from the kicks that he pulled. All should bow a cheerie O' to him, when they see him.
When the tape was played backwards, everything seemed to fit fine. One size too big? Not the least. She just popped right into those jeans.
When the song was played forward, they heard voices in the thick of the music. They couldn't make out the murmmers, so they dissected the tune. Inside, they found complex riffs, diverse drum beats, and smooth, raspy vocals.
The pirate's treasure (or subliminal messages) where no where to be heard.
So, after they all put their clothes on, they mopped up the goat's blood, and apologized to their mothers. They really didn't mean to say those mean words.
Sub-Fin.