1922 6 1
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It was too late to be eponymous. I was happy enough to be an emulator. But even then, my ideas were nothing but re-runs of re-runs. Like a high-school production of Macbeth.
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98901
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... threads are nasty things / That snag and pull and tear the cloth / And will not let me be.
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125530
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“Listen, Mother – you’re my ticket out of this burg and I’m not about to cash it in!”
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13501310
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I see my siblings once a year when we all show up, as if required by law, to eat Thanksgiving dinner. It is apparent with every bite how much they hate each other.
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