Harnett-Hargrove

My dear friends can attest that i scare easily. Hiding behind a tree seems very natural to me.

+ i tend to personify everything, anything.

It was an unusually gusty day even for the desert. Up on the hill road a titanic trampoline compete w/ safety net has jumped its retainer wall + is bouncing across the road. The weight of it’s own landing has bent the legs + formed knee joints that look like Pop-eye’s elbows. The aberration crushed on its weight + looking like a monstrous bogey spider scurrying as the wind skitters it across the blacktop + down the hill.

Ghost in the machine.
Give up the hallowed ghost.
The animating spirit of us all.

He hoped he would be able to mind his own business in the hereafter, she had made that very, very clear.
If you die before me, do not come back if you feel the need to tell me something, do not haunt me. I will not understand. I will quickly and simply say, go to regression. 

Ghosts before breakfast.
These mornings i wake up before the break of day. i’ll sit in this predawn darkness, resisting the impulse to do anything. It’s then that i remember people, their words, the sound of their words + the color of the sound. Each harkens back to a ghost of a memory, trips back, skips back farther + farther until there is no place else to go, except round to the now. + i like to wonder why, through this mental synaesthesia, i thought of them today, this minute.

I want to go to heaven without dying to hear Judy Garland sing.  -Chloe Mae

What i learned today:
Never sleep under a used pall w/out sageing it first.