inventory no i have one penis and two testicles. 020112 ... misstree what's it got in its pocketses today? seething rage and desperate means and ends and clucking ironies and hoping not for me or him but just for her and tearful pleas to momma, i can see when things are spinning on her fingers and slowly slipping into mundane sleep and utter uncertainty but singular thrust and raw raw raw and i forged the pliers in the proper state, and they will always be bitter reminder, and that is proper. it has pokies and pain in its pocketses, and ironic strengths and startle reflexes. and, mixed in with the lint, a stain untamable, hope, ready to irritate each opened wound. 040202 what's it to you? who go blather from