this morning my heart is yesterday, for sometime between dark and light, chest and thigh, the imp of Spring began his mischief. the world cannot be the same after curiosity and false constructs (built on foundations all too physical) have opened the modern pandora’s box of complications. that is why i feel like shit. i know i had something to do with it, and swashbuckling my way out of this will only make matters worse. i want to recapture the little imp of Spring, but he isn’t so little anymore. damn my weakness. the world is ginger scented still, but no longer a paradise, Hope is stuck under the lid. we can only free her if we work together.