Excuse
me,
but I have the little notion that you don't like
me
and I would appreciate it if you erased
me
or deleted
me
or something like that.


Life, life, life. Where did it go?
Melted with the snow.
December's ember is fading to gray.


Yes, these are the lines that float through my mind throughout the day.
I don't know where they come from, and I don't know where they go when I stop thinking about them, so I have to write them down real quick before I forget and remember them again sometime later.