John

I am made from trees. As this silver presses upon my face, rolling its cylindrical steel, dropping these organized scribblings across my brow. It's vexing to witness my faith in the form of one's boredom. These are pompous ramblings of a loquacious mind without a way to secrete. The audacity of the blue-eyed larva, explaining my cognitive so matter-of-factly.

__________________
"We don't rent pigs!"

Vixen

Ever consider writinga story about people in an insane islylum, this would fit in so lovely....I kinda liked it