One Can't Build Little White

It Is June. I Am Tired Of Being Brave.

Mood Can Be As Important As Sense.

Abundance Is Scooped From Abundance Yet Abundance Remains.

I See Myself As One Would See Another. I Have Been Cut In Two.

Once Upon A Time We Were All Born, Popped Out Like Jelly Rolls Forgetting Our Fishdom, The Pleasuring Seas, The Country Of Comfort, Spanked Into The Oxygens Of Death.