the red line on my wrist, the oozing, the smell, came from my magic magic marker, that will send me straight to hell. i feel you so intensley, running through my veins. searching for the outlet, the open door, that my wrist contains.

sorry, but may i ask where this is coming from? i have pocket knives in my dresser as residue of an old friend's promise. so i worry.

worry not miss pez. it is as it reads, a magic magic marker. red in color, synthetic cherry in smell.

oh good. i was just worried for a second. i think in metaphors too much. maybe that's m best skill. i miss being in elementary school and getting brand new art supplies each year. ahhh, crayons...

MY MAGIC MAGIC MARKER IS THE ONE YOU WANT TO SUCK!

Again and again, we ponder your stupid childish fucking words "Suck My Dick." Who let him in here... I mean I know we've all said some stupid shit over the last couple of years, but I mean some people just don't get the point... Bell_Jar I thought that was pretty cool, I need to find my poem bood ( the old one ) and post a poem I wrote a long time-ago that I named... "When I Wish Upon A Plane" I think you would like it.

I had a dream where I got a package from the Antiques Roadshow in the mail...it seemed so real, too... I opened it up. There was a letter and another package inside. I read the letter, which told me I had won a prize for some reason or another. I opened up the inner package, and was amazed at the fact that I had won a big black marker. Just that. Weird. I was worried for days after it, looking for the marker and the package's remains...I really did think that it happened.

that wasn't a sexual dream.

I know. They usually aren't.

i keep on trying to convince my mom to take our clock to antiques roadshow the next time it's in town...it's at least 175 years old ad it made it over the oregon trail. that's all we know about it. oh, gawd, i haven't watched anything in ages.