One poem, some peanuts.

Fp-fp-fp-fp-fp.

Now, imagine that emitted from my mouth melodically, and with head bobs to emphasize every syllable. That's how I would've liked to begin this entry. So.

And now, this.

(It's a poem.)

(I wrote it.)

(It's called The Night Descending.)

I seriously need to find a substitute for LJ-cuts on blogspot. My poor little poem feels naked. This is the first installment of a multi-part series of poems I'm planning. It'll be in the middle, probably.

In other news, I am watching Good Eats. Alton Brown is conversing with George Washington Carver. He is wearing a giant foam peanut on his head.

I have to be at work by 5 tomorrow morning, but I need to see where this is going.

Edit: INTERESTING DEVELOPMENT. Okay did anyone know George Washington Carver didn't even invent peanut butter? Fucker.