Pick A Sin We Can Both Live

If The Workers Took A Notion They Could Stop All Speeding Trains; Every Ship Upon The Ocean They Can Tie With Mighty Chains.

Her Sanity Was A Fragile Thing, A Butterfly Cupped In Her Hands, That She Carried With Her Everywhere, Afraid Of What Would Happen If She Let It Go-or Got Careless And Crushed It.

She Breathed Deeply Of The Scent Of Decaying Fiction, Disintegrating History, And Forgotten Verse, And She Observed For The First Time That A Room Full Of Books Smelled Like Dessert: A Sweet Snack Made Of Figs, Vanilla, Glue, And Cleverness.

I Am; I Was. I Want To Be.

Well. That's Helpful. We'll Put An Apb Out On The Gingerbread Man. I'm Not Hopeful It'll Do Us Much Good, Though. Word On The Street Is You Can't Catch Him.