Sweet dreams

Underneath the forest’s evening scowl the wolves howl and the chickens go home to roost. The deer dear to me jump crazily the squirrel squirrels away its nuts and it is nuts sometimes at night times when the predators prowl underneath the forest’s evening scowl…

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When Tuesday falls

I think we’ve all had that feeling of feeling nothing. Emptied like the dustbins used to be and yet full of foreboding as if someone is loading a twelve bore with a cartridge and your name is on it. And feeling that way which is one way to feel do you feel like kneeling and…

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