daysed and confucius

to make a long story short, don't tell it...

my story was told. by artist's and philosophers, banging down the cloud bubbles of my head, with warnings and flares, and delicious sparklers. 

but everybody likes sparklers. i couldn't resist.

and now, i wait. 

the days pass. each hour goes by with the immediacy of time, and the persistence of a slug. 

and i wait.

if only my dreams were dreams...