Not Fred. Or George. Or whatever his name is. But the beast. Wowzas. And this monster of a dog that lives somewhere in our vicinity doesn't look jovial, like this picture somehow, miraculously eminates. He looks really, really angry. And extra mangy. I mention this becuase it's almost traumatic to see him walking towards me.
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And on a completely different note, last night I ended my long remission on playing with words.
Dull, dudded eyes tell the traveler's silver studded full
Lips pitched in quirk or smirk of life ditched in drips.
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