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the last sunset

clouds in moderation
Sunday, July 1, 2007

I think in crunching numbers.

Rightfully so. And down with it, memories, or what's left of it. It's coffee spilled on paper at least. This is the story of a stalker having an indirect infatuation for a certain someone that should be banished into a rip in the space-time continuum for all of eternity, and said stalker even creates unimaginable artworks of varying expressions, and then spills ink all over the goddamned thing. Yes, said stalker is stupid and clumsy, and is one sorry excuse for a klutz.

The end.

smiled at the sun again @ 8:42 PM,




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