Crisp air, chimney smoke lingers, a twilight run. Dry leaves underfoot--I trample them, and if you listen closely, you can hear them let out a crackling whisper: "Dooooonuuutttss." Shhhh. Stick that in your pumpkin-spice latte and smoke it, -Word
Gather ye chocolate-glazed while you can, for time is relentless in its flying, this same doughnut that rises today, tomorrow will be dying. Consider also this: The taste of a doughnut lasts longer when washed down with bourbon. I've tried it. Magnificato. Perfetto. I did not do my miles today. But yet...in the immortal…
