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Friday 1st January 2016.

Johnny-B-Good notes mix in with the ticking clocks that hide away in this room....There's room for everyone in feminism whether you wear a g-string or a sack...the scribbler of those few words escape me....Who are you...??? across a blog today asks a quiestion but leaves the answer to the reader.....I am sober and for the first day of 2016...tired yet in good spirits as those thoughts spawn ripples towards the new year...i will not make impossible promises to myself knowing full well within days raindrops in the swirling gutter is where, on bended knees i will find them floating by..giggling thoughts of i told you so will hang from wet witches panties hanging from bare winter trees..the clod is super soft all this rain means if the weather was warm naked mud wrestling under the moon light would be an option for a part time pagan....
On day eight of this Christmas...all Christmas songs have now been banished my favourite for this season has been..." In The Bleak Midwinter " which shows my age in a wheel barrow of hope onwards and upwards...in neat flowers pulls the pace
A Mcdonalds toy was drowning in the river of rain crashing down the street Saturday morning my fingers picked it up..i am sure its the tiny girl from Peanuts it reminded me of a sissy in blue how quaint and how apt as i stare into the next tweleve months...So Goeth....

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bichoose
bichoose

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