don't want anything outside to overwhelm and distract the inside? is that it? but what is so special about the inside? nothing, really, right? so continue to question the sidewalk, as if there's something special about the tiles, like they could animate and answer questions -

styles, used to be a glut of style, and swagger, and liquid courage

getting away with this and that, slipping under the radar of the arbiter, sneaking past the gauntlet of the accountant - before it got too real

dragged along the ice

i want it to flow better, like a song, but music feels oppressive now - why? cause claw marks in the ice, chasms, envy

bleachers, always on the bleachers lately, spectating

you know what? it's time for the rhyming of the dram. And damn yourself to a life of not giving a damn.

safe sanctioned dull sleepers and diphenhydrinate, pharm chat with r-dawg and htc, remember that old avatar?