flit flit flit back and forth between unsure tasks oh no, this is going to be a poem which thing to do in the running out of time? half-do a lot of things? running back and forth i accumulate music but begin to crave silence am i often trading the real for the imaginary?
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
joemess's journal