the selfishness of the word self creates a lump of energy inside waiting to burst at each provocation.
Growl the little voice in my head, growl the tiny shed of derangement.
Growl.
Am I a tamed creature masked by the wilderness of humanity?
or am I just neurotic.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012,8:51 AM
progressing years of wisdom.
Hello again Monsieur Wes Anderson,
to another year of invisible present but continuous substance. I toast a drink of you and I, a year wiser and a year closer to perhaps becoming a muse of your divine work.
