off to go shopping, up the hills and through the woods but this little red-riding-hood has the top down, is driving a sweet ass convertible through the wind, through the air that’s been through your lungs, that’s disheveled your hair… and if i had a dollar for every time i said i’d forget, stuff the… Continue reading there she goes…
this has to be…
a psychology project. HA! the joke is on us…boy, does the adage “give ’em enough rope and they’ll hang themselves” speak the truth… someone out there is having a hearty laugh at this crazy volleyball game. me? i’m hanging in the back, with a cup of joe, my walkman on blaring and smoking my pipe…
what’s the 411?
the sky is turning orange yellow, it’s gonna rain like crazy. good. let the raindrops drown out the little voices in my head, i need a good flushing, i’m ready to hold my breath. why is it that when i feel like crap, some guy decides to follow me in his car and ask me… Continue reading what’s the 411?
sigh
it’s dying. just like the cactus that pathetically sits on my wooden floor, a beautiful pot can’t massage the life or green back in. i’ve given up on it after spraying and hoping… my can of insecticide didn’t do magic. didn’t do the trick. just like the opened and discarded book on the kitchen table… Continue reading sigh