Sighing, She Gave A Brief Nod. “i

In The Dictionary, Next To The Word Stress, There Is A Picture Of A Midsize Mutant Stuck Inside A Dog Crate, Wondering If Her Destiny Is To Be Killed Or To Save The World. Okay, Not Really. But There Should Be.

I Don't Think Of Myself As A Writer.

I Love You, I Love Your Smile Your Snarl Your Grin, Your Face When Your Sleeping.i Love Your Hair Streaming Behind You As We Fly, With The Sunlight Making It Shine, If It Doesn't Have Too Much Mud Or Blood In It, I Love Seeing Your Wings Spreading Out, White And Brown And Tan And Speckled, And The Tiny Downy Feathers Right At The Top Of Your Shoulders. I Love Your Eyes, Whether They're Cold Or Calculating Or Suspicious Or Laughing Or Warm, Like When You Look At Me.

Have You Been Playing In Toxic Waste Lately?

Okay, Okay, Okay. I Understood That Pushing The Elevator Button Over And Over Again Would Not Make The Elevator Appear Sooner. But I Couldn't Help Myself