Ok people, time for a little experiment.
I'll listen to some music (incubus - a crow left..) and try to write some kind of poetry.
Toes...
Time flows like exposed toes,
Tossed in this void of senses.
Where enemies are not foes,
And borders aren't marked with fences.
Through the tall grass you'll see a sad man,
whose only problem was he couldn't say "I can.".
Leaning with his toes on the edge he stared down,
And began his free-fall towards town.
(Scott, feel free to respond to this, I know how much you like to rhyme)
A Random Word That Inspires Gas: Shard.. as in "Dude. . . I gotta shard."
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