A tiny bird lands on the fence as I take in the sun.
His musings are pleasant and confident.
I watch as his little feet feel the beat.
I partition a chip and lay it down for him.
He smiles in his way and takes it to the ground.
I think I will name him Chip.
This week is a time of dream difficulty and of cold and obstunant energy. I wish I could the la la la in my entry today. It has somehow been taken away. Brainstorming yeilds no doorways, and I am still the doormat to all societies.
I sit back and praise the day while I pull the cord to pleasant and curious entities. I am trying to not be bitter, but I thirst for redemption change in the atmoshere.
Latinos tunnel through all of you, but not me in this moment. They can plant ideas about yourself and your environment that you will think is you. Spend money wisely in this time and space. Face the sun at least one time a day. Know that temples will fall, and I am not a know it all. Flowers show a brave face, but latino mothers do erase. Get back you of a native land. Your future will be far less grand if you take their hand.
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