the air is fresh and wet and new, and cool and sweet. growing on me, with me, around me. it hangs like a vine curtain, tendrils licking my every step, but i don't have to brush it away and why would i? this green, pulsating, living thing. this stubborn plant. this unequivocable, inexorable force, shield, strangler, field-of-view obscurer, this solid block of power.

past future

last five entries:
blisters and bruises - 03.18.08
dorsey - 03.13.07
finding peace - 02.02.07
unintentional clean slate - 09.11.06
natural born cyborg - 06.23.06