Nob 5, 2015
Attend, and I will bore you in the domain between acts left unfinished and those summarily undid. If only boredom could relax your nerves. If only it could comfort you as I am comforted by the airy ceiling, the affirmative lack of chandeliers. While I can elicit nothing, it can be taken for warmth. The color of their attire serves neither to flaunt nor disguise their means, nor is it soul were soul something above skin, not under or of it, not it itself, blistering in the sun, smothered with hope denser than the lotion of municipal clinics. What is thread count but a counting on. Book titles but stubble that began doing a number on the skin of my youngest long before the spells. Send one more word, if able. As aircon brown acknowledges the burden of non-aircon brown, licking exposure like a boss, why the longish unintelligible must cramp itself under illiterate, nothing but the same white sky to learn, please. Eager to know how / who / why you are holding up.