Monday, December 16, 2002

What an imperfect day for a rainstorm. Rain, rain, go away, I have a feeling you're here to stay.

The hardship isn't an enduring quality anymore, and all my labors seem to wind up in blustery days. The world certainly stops in a blink of an eye. My eye at least. I had to eat that white dove. It sure as hell isn't getting out of my sight again.

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