January 22nd, 2003 - 2:57 a.m.

Here we are. It has come uninvited again, underneath the door.

Seeking sustenance in the form of stimulation.

�Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.�

This is like a pesky crab. Internal organs so very fragile, if you could just reach under the shell. Clamping the index digit with serious glee to right the wronging of its honour. Defiantly cutting into the hilled and valleyed regions. Leaving a trail of pinched nerves; standing, quaking in their freedom, in purplish red trenches.

Except there is no honour lost here. Have a battle to attend to. The war not yet declared.

N.

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