2004-01-19 - 3:46 p.m.
spongelike organs may control my mood, but I've got real and imaginary teeth to cut through thought and bone of thought and save myself from topheavy humanity
I've got melodrama, I've got poorly scripted dialogue, I've got laughter that doesn't carry an edge to come back and cut me, as judgement will
I've got slowness, I'm sedate, my anger is a glasscutters blade, my thought a weighted hot air balloon containing small furry animals as well as the blueprints of revolution
