grendel

So much sweat has dried on my body that I'm covered in a layer of salt.

I have a knot of pain immediately between my shoulders that is drawing all of my attention to that central and inaccesable place.

I want to sleep, but I'm so tired I can't.

I think I'm hallucinating.

I watch "Taxi Driver" today.

You talkin' to me?

What is love? Is it a guaranteed commodity? Is it real? Can you touch it?

I heard once that Pythagoras believed that the brain secreted thoughts. What would your thoughts taste like? Would they be cool, soothing, smooth? Or hot and unabashed? I think hot.

Would you share? Would you let me bottle and distill your thoughts, sip at your ideas, catch a cool draft of your intellect?

There are times when I am so filled with un-named emotion that I feel as though I might burst. My brain, my traitorous brain becomes an enemy filling my head with thoughts of "what if" "what now" "if only" and "Oh my. . ."

The flavor of Odonata intrigues me.