anyposs

sweat-soaking  juice-soaking     ever more juice-dripping   down the sleeves of this                           bath-robe. sun-up, to   sun-down, I shiver in its warmth. Home       is what comes to mind.exe, as I play.gif    with all of my friends.jpeg                           online. I wish to break from this cocoon, and break-fast on my broken-back, feasting upon the iridescent wings I once used to fly.

And so the men of wood, stone, and steel, after a day in the rain, return to their homes made of plastic. But my home, O, my home, is made of wax, dripping golden hands down wooded floors, fragrant with the power of Pine-Sol, baby. The floor’s boughs way heavy with the scars of wolves at play, joy bleeding from their wounds like paper cuts from an old spell book. Spells of dancing, spells of laughter; spells of worry, spells of despair. So much doubt… But despair no more, child, for we have scriptures ripe to replace yours! Vibrate through the echoes of our fathers, and swear upon the oak mantle that you are descendant. Soak your

Alright, since my boredom has caught up with me (as indicated by my increased dabbling in Dungeons & Dragons), I've decided to make this journal just an ordinary journal. And ordinary for me is a journal about dreams. Quite literally a dream journal. So, with out further ado, I will account what I remember from last night's dream in a disjointed-list format: Space station school. Lots of girls. Ancient alien temple near station colored Dr. Seuss red. Mystical forest. Rune tablets. Ancient alien script. In between waking and dream, hear brother get out of bed, put on pants, walk towards door, stop at foot of my bed, and say a somewhat dev