Falling down to bump heads in the night, feelings felt, never felt so right.

So life is dreamy, yet wants drama, and hands on stuff, we are made of quantum foam after all. And I fall into a phonograph, into graphics, pixals, and jumbo shimp, to the sound of music. Singing in the shower with imaginary fish, climbing KOIT Tower in my Superman Underwear. Its for the freaky kids eating twinkies, I make em spin, cause they got tops in their little heads, and big farts in their small bottoms. They just need a new dance partner.

I am what I am.

Now how can I get caught in the middle?

The greatest thing about red heads is imagining their hair burst into flames.

Luck is involved and sometime it is natural ill fortune that happens, the person may just see the stars, and not the cold rain. Yet a single star may be the ticket.

Bold move on my part.

This wall is not perfect.

Seek and find nothing.

The losers were costumed of course, as men of there best of times, they moved slow and steady to their there shelf of books, pretending they wrote most of them, and they had god like vision, but nobody there but them, alone in their rooms, on the phone.

Young man to age, big news!