show off. exotic birds, dancing black and blue on tv, have english accents launching them to fame. i can't stop shaking. the lion has stalked its prey for days, it's time to kill. when you face your attackers just play dead, keep them guessing. washed up. ironic habits i put outside for display have lost their value, and i've become cliche. i'm not an addict, just homesick for solitary space and time alone. stuff your head full of parks and gardens, you'll feel just fine until the predators have left. you're full of starved receptors. they've run out of what sustains them. so have mine.
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