Though I never called it by name, a serpent said let’s play a game— and tho’ its eyes flashed ruby red I stopped, listened. It did the same, forked tongue-dart out of noble head— curled on a branch, quietly said life holds you in its flickered frame, alive one moment, next one dead.

Mostly doing friendtech degenning and banging out work product today

Why do people keep bidding on my Lens address?

Grouching never has an end, applaud—not done a lot, please remember, oh my friend, that every mic is hot. Tories on a downward trend and your career is shot— maybe could you comprehend that every mic is hot? Naught to give and naught to lend, no choice in what schools got, the ceiling crumbling? God forfend! Still, every mic is hot.

There is never any excuse to be an asshole!

I am the trickle in the lane, the seeds washed out in spates of rain, the sand castle built stories high and knocked down, then begun again, the water washing sand-filled eye, hard truths softened by gentle lies, the knife best left where long it’s lain, the campfire doused without goodbyes.