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.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Your faces turn angry red, while mine turns a cute shade of pink...
God Hates Fags?
Well, then my god hates gods that hate fags.
And apparently your god is a non-smoker in England.
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Comments! Your FACE is a comment! Huh?