Spoken not are these to any fine tune which makes for flutter. Lost am I at times: I am lost now. Sparks. Metal from a tailpipe hangs down and screeches along the blacktop showing and throwing sparks here and there, but they come not my way. Alas, this is viewed from a distance and nothing more. Perhaps the high strung feeling comes about via my feeling like a penny pulled by numerous hands. Have I become so thin and overstretched that I am as tense as an E string on an old guitar?
My mind does call out and seeks to venture both far and near yet these walls are locked down, blocked, and sometimes blood soaked. - Maggie ~ November 30, 2010 in the p.m.
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