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	<description>The Greatest Hyperbole Ever!!(fresh words, day old wit and half-baked wisdom)</description>
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		<title>Haiku for a Saturday Morning</title>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 21 Apr 2012 15:02:46 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Periodic Rambling]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Emotions]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[yearning toward the sun these plants &#8212; too closely, they burn. ah, the unsaid verb.]]></description>
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		<title>Wednesday Words &#8212; A Very Short Poem About You</title>
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		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Mar 2012 00:00:34 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description><![CDATA[In the end &#8212; your life will look as it always has &#8212; terrifyingly familiar, yet surprising in exactly the right way.]]></description>
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		<title>Wednesday Words &#8211; The Bees</title>
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		<pubDate>Wed, 22 Feb 2012 17:30:37 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description><![CDATA[It&#8217;s raining outside. Droplets bead on my windows forming a scatter pattern that makes me think of insect swarm behavior. All the bees which used to bury me are dead, now. I spend the morning cleaning my apartment and settle in to answer emails in the afternoon. In these days of waiting, my email beckons [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Wednesday Words &#8211; Facebook</title>
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		<pubDate>Wed, 08 Feb 2012 17:30:38 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description><![CDATA[He clicked the loopy arrow at the top of his screen to refresh the page again. Her half-open mouth, sheathed in deep red lipstick disappeared briefly. His eyes flicked to the bottom of the window: &#8220;Waiting for www.facebook.com, Transferring data from profile.ak.fbcdn.net, Waiting for static.ak.fbcdn.net&#8230;&#8221; and then she was back again, frozen mid-sentence above his [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Wednesday Words &#8211; Elevator</title>
		<link>http://tobyscales.com/content/1659</link>
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		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Feb 2012 17:30:19 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description><![CDATA[The sad old demon sat in the corner of the elevator hunched over his knees, face in hands. Thick leathery skin, no longer the vibrant red of youth but purplish with age. His wings twitched and closed around him, their fine silk shredded now by the arrows of countless do-gooders. Across from him, his charge [...]]]></description>
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