sorry so clumsy, sorry to take up space. why do i always feel threatened.
the divorce decree was father's for xmus. we had to. it doesn't matter i am a child in gray. i still hate the american holiday. holiday of empire, holiday of father. his wife got the inheritance. i get the dead man's sweaters. meted out, one at a time, from his drawer and still radiating his arrogant pheromones. and i feel a strange protection in that, that i never felt in his presence.
why do i always feel the threat here in the land of the free.
they glorified military conquest, and ultimately became its victims. what about civilizations that self-destruct? there are so many ways for a civilization to die. (cosmos)
fractured fairy tales, space food sticks, the crock pot and tang, somehow we grew up here, in the great disconnect, living under in an alien civilization such an unhomelike home. on the pushed back periphery of the natural world, critters of stardust, smoke and mirrors, wandering in exiled place.
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