crows nom) the cemetery crows didn't want their pictures taken 050811 ... nom) now there are four crows for 4fifty. i think it said four50. the gallery was dark. 050918 ... nom outside_my_window 070320 ... ovenbird When the tip of my tongue goes numb for no reason I can discern, I assume I have poisoned myself with the tansy my fingers found, so inviting with its sweet button eyes and fine green fronds. I imagine that when I stroked the tight furled petals my hands came away dusted with the possibility of death only to find my lips as I sipped my tea or licked the crumbs of lunch from my forefinger and thumb. I press into that thought until it bursts and spills its viscera onto the ground. I leave the mess for the crows to eat. They’ll pick my mind clean and haunt the arterial branches waiting to be fed on the offal of my next intrusive_thoughts. They are fat and sleek. They don’t go long without a meal. They have forgotten what it means to be hungry. 250908 what's it to you? who go blather from