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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Transparent Demons
I have, like, about five seconds to plant this entry. And though I feel it should be a warning about the copious amount of bad poetry that lies ahead, I really should just say that Max is moving out of the house in the Valley and so I am having to move/decide about/trash/abandon/pack all the shit I left behind last August when I moved out. And it sucks. Oh, yeah. In other news, I'm still on the masturbatory kick. And to make matters worse and/or better, The Demon Who Always Does The Right Thing is strongly advocating dinner this coming Monday. I don't know that I'm ready for that. I've kind of become addicted to being The Demon Who Disappears. Or, alternatively, The Demon Who Gets Away. Time to go.
More lies:
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