...And so this leaf comes to an end, swallowed whole by the evening frost and dirt that the wind carries from across the yard. It used to provide me with warmth, but now the holes filling the icicles allow me to watch the contents of mother nature and mother earth (different patronymics) with such great pride that no one on this planet or the next will be able to devour my soul. Old words start to resurface like the dead similes acting as metaphors with just a slightly lesser name and function. "Creepy wide-eyed youngsters looping four notes from some tv jingle the entire afternoon." Where did that come from? Oh I know. Perhaps you don't, but in most cases it doesn't matter because remembering names of personal geniuses defeats yourself, defeats your purpose. Let your own self make the reflexive self cower and thus defeating forgetting names and the like. You are your own self. Behind the snooze buttons and the chocolate milkshakes filled with vodka and cranberry sauce, let no one discover people inside of a person, it just doesn't make any sense to the watchers out there trying to uncover their pieces of eight...bars work metallic strings humming a note a little bit too loudly before tidal-waving and crashing over the rest of the world. Look at you. On top, nude, running around your two by two foot square exhausting yourself. But, hell, who cares! I envy you. I am you. You will never know this but I am on top. Look under your feet. So are you! Come join yourself and me. Look below! I'm uncovering the leaf, melting the snow, keeping the icicles under my pillow for next year, just so we know that this goes on and on and on and on.