12-14-06 5 am

I sa waistin a purl a flour. I not know how these men wake up such trains, or saddle so many. I a girl, mishapen an a gourge cut out from the passing glaciers. Not a whisp of future lasts here in my windy room. i not see it. i suppose to grow up an make a dollar for every time place and part, but i not know how to go about it