| 08-27-2006 S u n d a y , A u g u s t 2 7 , 2 0 0 6
I half-heartedly stabbed at the crumbs of your favorite thing. I'd be lying if i said i didn't feel the sting in that soft fleshy spot in me that so few people seem to think exists. I couldn't blend in at all. Didn't. Is it me that won't let me, or them?
 That old, broken lady on Sound waved at me again today, so I thought it best to stop to say 'Hello'. How many times have I passed her by? Countless. Her wrinkled skin, greying on top. Some bumps and bruises but no doubt, full of memory.
|