I Hate Skin; I Hate

Something Aches At The Very Core Of Me, Something Ancient And Deep And Stronger Than Words: The Filament That Joins Each Of Us To The Root Of Existence, That Ancient Thing Unfurling And Resisting And Grappling, Desperately, For A Foothold, A Way To Stay Here, Breathe, Keep Going.

Mice? Fine. Flying Mice? Not So Fine.

And I Guess That's When It Starts To Hit Me: The Whole Point Is, You Do What You Can.

Juliet!' I Whip Around But Not Quickly Enough. She's Swallowed By The Crowd, The Gap That Allowed Her To Break For The Door Closing Just As Quickly As It Opened, A Shifting Tetris Pattern Of Bodies.

Lindsay Calls Them The Pugs: Pretty From Far Away, Ugly Up Close.