a note on remorse.

this kind of remorse, the kind I am feeling, is not something that can be shortened into a haiku. or a limerick. don't look at me like that, I have tried. and I know, I know, why would ANYONE write a limerick about remorse? well, sometimes it's the sad ones that are the funniest. that man from China tripped on a rock and lost his cock. tragic, really. but a brilliant limerick. anyway, like I said, this kind isn't the kind that I can shorten to any of that. it's too big and cumbersome. I carry it around with me, and can't be shortened, or flattened, or anything.