waiting is not moving. shaking limbs out isn't staying. I cleaned I cleaned I sprayed, I even cinnamoned the ants out of mine own evil, watch them shake & burn. isn't that just, why you gotta be so mean. the party neighbors are at it again. mine whine friends, my dad & his friends. they're good, they only really remember one or two stories from my babyhood. or else there aren't enough good memories. or else two just stories for them to shaken their drunk heads & their squint eyes at. When I'm their age, they warn, In 34 years I'll be thinking, Weren't those the best times. thanks for making me look down at the bodworld I've made all shameful.
