written by owen

I ask you to love me but you don't wanna love me, I'm losing patience now. The cloths on one half of my bed are almost completely filed away now. The cleaning process is a slow but studious. There are some places where the road doesn't go in a circle. The rain as be sporadic as of late. Teasing me at every chance or interval. Stopping when I'm close or in traffic or too busy to realize that its raining out side our sound proof office. The blinds block out the sun of the rain in the sky. My heart don't beat the way it used to.

Island Grill has won the award for the most questions asked at the counter for a menu item. I love Island Grill. As much as I love to go to the place I cannot help but bust into a grin as the checkout person carries out an interview with me for my chicken. I have the money in hand and I just tell her the number from the menu but no matter how many times I do it I can't keep a straight face. Dirty things run through my mind as she (the attendant) firmly grips the cash register and asks me how best she may service me, right there in front of everybody. She wondered If I liked my fries bar-be-qued, natural or dipped in orange juice with pumpkin rice. She refuses to take my cash until the terms of the contract has been finalized.

As Spice mentioned lines it came to me that I hate the lines that just appear out of nowhere like magic monkeys. Your going really fast down a highway and you just see a line appear, you crash into it and die, a fiery death. Women are like highways - Highways with toll booths, speed traps and poorly maintained confusing signs that are hard to read when covered in bush and damaged by previous accidents that occur due to poor planning.

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