1047.

Where the watcher knows
that to live is to obey.
A slow threat of mores.

1046.

A game of focus
staring out past the nooses,
in sight, just swinging.

1045.

The author, though, is
just left with its empty truth.
Always there, hanging.

1044.

Because a reader
is subject to any range
interpretation.

1043.

Regardless of the
depth of its content, or lack
there, obviously.

1042.

But then, I'm of the
staunch belief that writing is
for the author first.

1041.

Sometimes these little
notes amuse me more than I'm
sure they do readers.