ivethe evening- returns--daybreak shatters the last breath before sleeprs
the idealism scattered borne on lips
allmy gut wrenches from unforeseen panic
i feel a particular chaos is imminent
the stale taste of trichhair before bedtime
i felt the little nagging particles of hair getting caught in my throat today
while i was peeling an orange browsing the Woodcock farms cheese catalog
they were daring me to cough up a hairball
and i almost did but how do you silently and discreetly dislodge the miniature hair culprits without gaining unwanted attention. I kept swallowing hard but to no avail. Eventually I had to give up and take care of a table and hoped to God it would somehow disintegrate......nmd
One thinks differently in the midday than in the evening. But what is truth? In the spirit of midday? or the depth of the night? The answer is two replies, two races of men- Camus
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