I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas.
My fingers are Santa's little helpers.
My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments.
I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn.
Sisyphus, sweating uphill.
Bukowski,
scribbling away
in rooming houses.
A river always flowing.
I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
In college I had hopes on meeting a 5'6' to 5'7' girl with dark hair who played the guitar and relied on a old bicycle as her only means of transportation with her social studies and literature books in a little rusted steel basket... I didn't ask for too much, did I?
In college I had hopes on meeting a 5'6' to 5'7' girl with dark hair who played the guitar and relied on a old bicycle as her only means of transportation with her social studies and literature books in a little rusted steel basket... I didn't ask for too much, did I?
In college I had hopes on meeting a 5'6' to 5'7' girl with dark hair who played the guitar and relied on a old bicycle as her only means of transportation with her social studies and literature books in a little rusted steel basket... I didn't ask for too much, did I?
ReplyDeleteIn college I had hopes on meeting a 5'6' to 5'7' girl with dark hair who played the guitar and relied on a old bicycle as her only means of transportation with her social studies and literature books in a little rusted steel basket... I didn't ask for too much, did I?
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