Monday 19 September 2016

War


I don’t really know what to say.  Well, I do, but I don’t want to write it down.  I want to obliterate it into a million zillion pieces.  I want to turn them into cartoon characters I can erase, or I can crumple up and throw away.  I want to fly in the stars I want to fall splat on the ground.  This could go on forever.  Fat and wore cheap suits.  There, how’s that for something?

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

There is a party conference going on and no one is winning.

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