watcher belly fire Sometimes I get carried away with this false feeling of control I have over my life. I play the passive consumer, I play the cook, I play the employee. And all the while I seem to be singing some nameless tune to it all - a theme song to my life. It can get so that it interrupts conversations, explanations, crucial training. It gets so that it blasts in my ears, this painfully addictive tune. It is the very definition of confidence. Of control. I start to wonder not, should I be listening but, can I get away with not hearing this? I am not a religious person, though I have a very strong faith. I would say that today, with a great heft of faith, there was a Watcher over me. The Watcher watched me careen carelessly down the hill on my way home, the roads too slick, my radio too loud, my mind buzzing of my own theme song. The Watcher watched the look of panic wash over my face as my brakes failed to stop me, as they burned and locked. The Watcher watched as the tune slipped from me, my hands tumbled over the wheel...control was measured in the feet I lost between myself and the car ahead. And only then, instantly, did I stop. I have to believe The Watcher took action. Took control. I drove home slowly with no tune in my head. Hearing and feeling everything. My shaking legs carrying me to where I sit now. Thank you, Watcher. Merry Xmas. 031223 ... Riddle Me Not Emblem of youth and innocence, With walls inclos'd for my defence, And with no care opprest; I boldly spread my charms around, Till some rude lover breaks the mound, And takes me to his breast. Here soon I sicken and decay; My beauty lost, I'm turn'd away And thrown upon the street; Where I despis'd a vagrant lie, See no Samaritan pass by, But num'rous insects meet. Ladies! contemplate well my fate, Reflect upon my wretched state! Implore the Almighty aid, Lest you (which heaven avert) like me Should come to want and misery, Be ruin'd and betray'd. 031223 ... colorful goth i watch you breathe, watch you live for one second, the next second . . . the next . . . i watch your face, now serene with closed eyes. what do you see? i watch you, watch you for time. 041111 what's it to you? who go blather from