so this is how it is, i fly of the handle and i try reaching into the black box that truly encompasses all that i hold dear all that i hope for and all that i seem to be striving for, even subconciously, and i am so suprised when i draw back shredded paper, bloody hands and grasshopper wings. such a suprise. i feel distended, drawn out like dew on a taut string. i pray that i can gather all my little proclivities and prayers before the sun sets and i'll horde them in my skin like deposits of stardust against the impending night. blah blah blah, just end already...