No hugs today, you guys don't want my germs.


Dreaming AquiescenceA fairytale, a romance, story Of the epic kind. Princess, please, For my lonely self seem sorry. Beggars cant be choosers, so ease The cold with warming words which speak Of stolen love, of magic mirrors, ofDreaming Aquiescence
Shimmering seas and ponds that leak Forgotten secrets, the sparkling light of The stars. They are bright come summer Skies, in this fantasy with no end Nor beginning. Princess, flee under And over the dunes, then wake. Bend
Your face and weep, unable to see That dreams could never truly be.


Save The Last Dance For UsWere standing on the edge of infinity Look at all the miles! The future seemed so far away Remember how we smiled? We joked and laughed and screamed and sang We didnt give a damn And now thats all come crashing down And I remember who I amSave The Last Dance For Us
So lets laugh one more time Lets stay up late and sing too loud Lets get drunk on adrenaline and caffeine Lets climb on roofs and jump off ladders Lets have one more group hug Lets have one more group cry And lets dance one more time
We stood bef


TransientKneeling on the ash gray sand, sad gray, I close my fingers tighter over the sharp edges on your mother-of-pearl shell, shimmering green and gold and pink, dancing like fairie lights over the rippled surface. I press it closer to my heart, deep into the skin, carving a lopsided scarlet oval into pale flesh. The wisps of my nightgown, the one you gave me, blue like the watered ink of an early dawn, with bits of ribbon that swirl around my bare shoulders, filmy cloth foaming at my knees, kissed by the salty surf. I hold the half-shell to my ear, listening, listening, to hear beyond the ocean waves that pound inTransient


Under the Honeysuckle Bushes Under the honeysuckle bushes, there is a magical green world that welcomes our play into its quiet dome. Here, we are closed off from the world to make believe until the sun sets and our bellies are empty and it's time to go home. Under the honeysuckle bushes, we bring our ragged quilts and jugs of water and salty pretzels that make our lips sting. Laughter echoes around the happy clearing, as games of Indians, jungle hostages, and faeries take place. This is my house, this is yours. &nUnder the Honeysuckle Bushes
--
Wow, you got a pick-axe? I wish I had a pick-axe!
--
(\ /)
( . .)
c(")(")
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"The trouble ain't that there is too many fools, but that the lightning ain't distributed right.
-Mark Twain quote
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Scissors.
What about them?
I dunno...
--
Wow, you got a pick-axe? I wish I had a pick-axe!
--
Scissors.
What about them?
I dunno...
--
Scissors.
What about them?
I dunno...
--
Anyone else as bored as I am?
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