now we're back to the slumps, after a gleeful sheer over uncracked ice.
there was blonde hope, there could still be a sunrise to encourage,
but there's hardly a point in hoping so b/c my tolerance
for waiting is hidden by my intoxicated idea of a calendar
and distracting, oh! my scope.
but there are things to thing me.
Even with the rest belated
(
Read more... )