*like gum hardening on the underside of picnic tables, my pasts die away. chewy centers crusted over by over exposure and lack of interest... flavor is gone. too much air. hard crusty- stuck for life.


*the stairs aren't as handy as they used to be- no longer built into my programming they now require thought in order to decend... but they're still partly mine. missing my sock on the tree rack and feet on the sofa its a sad thought leaving that.


*the half moon agrees with my new locks. and these icy sidewalks are useless; my feet are planted in the world above. to dreamland.