Has it been a month, Madeline, since the last frost? Has it been a year since I broke my leg? Has it been a decade since we met? Has it been an hour since I laid down in the new-tilled field to watch the clouds go by, bugs crawling through the collar of my shirt, open eyes drying in the breeze, unwilling or unable to close?
[sorry I've been gone]
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Dance in the Full Moon
O, the Frailty of Memory
Pride Goeth Before a Fall
Hindsight
My Serial Mistakes
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This is Your Fault
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Sheeple
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