Is there any way I might touch yo… that doesn’t skim right off the su… of your exquisitely contrived vene… Is there a plea which I might utt… that would stir you from within?

Ideas and notions, they’re all for the dreamers, worth as much or less than one's considered opinion. You can’t even wrap fish in them.

The old man, who thinks he’s dying, approached me with these words. I am sorry

My father is dead, still he speaks through me; “Don’t say anything....OR ELSE!… There was plenty of “OR ELSE!” to go around.

Not so long ago I was convinced you were the culprit, the masked robber of my sacred trust.

Something whispers, certainly not nothing. A subtle impetus to choose to stir and rise

I was surrounded by many desperate, troubled people. There was much drinking, drugging, and violence. Women were being bought and sold,

I come to the village well today, though without a need to drink. My worldly thirst now quenched, with home and hearth supplied. I am here to fill a deeper vessel

I am that scruffy urchin trembling in the winter chill, with hungry eyes as wide as your fancy dinner plate, staring with an empty longing

Been wasting away in this hovel for too many days to count; wishing, hoping, scheming, sometimes even praying, for any way to get out.