i am nesting and i don't know enough to leave well enough alone -- it keeps looking at me funny, everytime my heel crests the curls of their symmetrical landscape, I take my prisoners in the cracks of my shoes and I refuse to give them up: pay them back. If I am lost -- so be it, then. The world has had greater conquerors than me, and it has known more objectives. I refuse to object to anything, especially anything with sugar and anything high in fat. I have binged myself too much on my perjury, and now my stomach argues with me cantankerously.