the format in which i choose to do this is turning into a flying midget. an outcast bound for flight and glory to end this dreary bedtime story. the course in which i am writing this could be described as a sticky envelope stuck to the tender bottom of my shoe. and i'm outdone. i see the need to do more for myself and i can't help but to just rub it all between my palms and let it drift off like sand in the wind on days like this.
on days like this and the others.