i'm getting something out of the book of Shyness i think though not a cure.

earlier then i found the lost strawberry binky and gave it copp and he carried it proud all the way home stopping for traffic and the stalking of the poodles when he barked it into the air

shit i cut the tip of this index finger that held the flower hours earlier who knows where the day will go.

somehow vilence makes sense when peace does not and ergo the opposite must be true but untried.

yeah copp i cut my finger just like you cut your paw but mine was due to recklessness in cucina. i wrapped it like a mummy for swim but the water flipped cold again from the second storm and it was cold as the grave and it may have leaked.

i should have gone swimming with you again instead of cutting my fingertip off. life feels so hazardous. like all thet shit the government does then the shooters in the neighborhood and even the ghost of me in the kitchen distracted with a new knife given without penny damn right i'm superstitious but only retroactively i guess.