Right-Round-Vague

"We let the candy-man fill us with his contraband..."

I feel absolutely weightless. If eyes were ink and fingers more nimble, I have this sneaking suspicion that I would write every breath that squiggled its way out of my mouth.

Like my spider? I found him in the basement and carried him to the front door. Scrabbly-legged bugs make my insides go numb. Spiders are a different sort of story. Remember...all people are stories.

I'm in an exceedingly good mood. My head's cloudy. I need to get these thought-things out of this big brain before I dissolve into a fleshbag-puddle.

"I swear I never meant for this -- don't look at me that way. It was an honest mistake..."