Keep your finger out of my eye.

[Commie Pinko Dirtbag]

While I write I like to glance at the butterflies in glass that are all around the walls. The people in memory are pinned to events I can't recall too well, but I'm putting one down to watch him break up, decompose and feed another sort of life. The one in question is a fully biodegradable material and categorised as R-A-E-L. Rael hates me, I like Rael - yes, even ostriches have feelings, but our relationship is something both of us are learning to live with. Rael likes a good time, I like a good rhyme, but you won't see me directly any more - he hates my being around. So if his story doesn't stand I might lend a hand, you understand? (i.e. the rhyme is planned, dummies).