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I am one of the Indians they sent on the

  • I am one of the Indians they sent on the Trail of Tears. I am an orphaned child. I am a stormy night. I am the cold touch of a dead lover. I am what men do not know how to say.
  • I am what I am not while not being what I am not being not. I am all these things and absolutely nothing to boot. But don't let that stop you from being the asshole I was, am.
  • I am so confused by the everything I have become. I feel like the highlander, knowing everything seeing everything but eventually ending up a disjointed messed up time line. What
  • Caused me to become this way?I thought back to all the decisions that made me into the person I am now, a person I've come to regret.Oh, if only I could turn back time, and
  • erase the wrongs of my life. But, as life goes, it moves on. I can't change time, and I can't dwell on the past forever.
  • He drew a red lightning bolt over one eye and danced into the night, cordless mic in hand. The pant-less dancer was infamous around these parts and feared by many.
  • Which made perfect sense. You're likely a danger unto yourself and to others when you go around cavorting into the night, sans cares and well...pants. Red lightning bolts or other
  • colors, it doesn't matter. You don't want your privates exposed to that sort of energy. At least a zipper in front would be better than nothing. Or would it conduct electricity?
  • ZAAAAAAP!! "OwwwwheeeeOwwww!" I shouted, clutching my fried gonads. "OHLORDYOHLORDYOHLORDYHAVEMERCY!" My jeans!They were ON FIRE!!! "Stop! Drop! Roll!" I remembered from 3rd grade.
  • I entered shock and a dreamlike state. A snow-crusted fairy snipped the end of my nose with a scissor, while Nat Cole sang in the background, “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…"
Started
2016-12-07 20:07:12
Finished
2018-03-18 08:54:47

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