we've all got choices

i'm glad i don't know if anyone reads this thing. i don't think i have it linked to anything.
so i mostly just type whatever i'm thinking about at any given moment... mostly diary-style poem-y things
that maybe i can pull a line from here and there.

so tell me about yr life, the little bird says
to the grass were you always so
big

or

i've got cold feet / not
cold shoulders

(what does that mean?)



when you say palatial are you admitting yr fear of confined spaces
and if it's true yrr tongue's clip - what is lying now
and what of yr hands -- mountain

(the candor of oceans is their tempest)


please turn to page 185 for attacking the dragon; turn to page 67 for laying down yr weapon and raising the white flag; turn to page 122 to meet a friend and disregard the threats of doom/destruction