(Photo by Michelle, my lovely love.) ( 35 killed in series of attacks across Iraq ) The (nightmare) train again arrives at the corners of my mouth, my lips of joy giving way to rage, shackled and then forced to bow to the scourge of Love. Too late. The rescue was at dawn. I tumbled in like a circus clown, my red and white wig shaking with laughter. Laughing with abandonment's never a good thing, unless you’re merely laughing and not trying to deceive the whole of life, water, forest, air, animal (me), Love, all of existence… The train again arrives at the corners of my mouth, my lips of joy giving way to rage, shackled and then forced to bow to the scourge of Love. I should consider what I ask of myself as my cheerless and deceitful face dives deep, only to rise with arms flailing into a fraudulent concoction of Heaven leaning against the pillar of Love’s wet glee. I'm steering this train! My mind should bend around my beliefs, see them from the other ...
(The Weaver's Song)