| pardon_me | ||
| misstree |
i do hope you'll excuse me while i slip away from the table. i've a bit too much in my belly, none of it digesting, and only isolation can help enzymes in their analysis, deconstruction, sorting, refueling. i would stay and sup forever if i could, or at least a few more tuesdays, but as much as i enjoy your company, i'm not proper, not here, not the dinner guest you invited but some half-distracted scientist, some wispy loon trying to see both sides at once. i wish i would have joined you when i was whole, vibrant, eyes shining with one form of fire or another, but i am a playhouse between plays, and what a mess. spilled paint and sawdust, as old sets are salvaged to build new. there are pieces and props from the beginning of time, and pieces still shimmering with newness. i promise i will still cherish you in one way or another, and will sup with you once more, once the playhouse is open. |
061002 |
| ... | ||
| musical flashback bird |
"...while i burst into flames" |
061002 |