I sent a letter written by hand. So much pen ink. So much pen ink. I looked up. The address. Correct denominations are silly because you would think. By now everything has one standard and simplification is a good. Work around to working up the words. In my bed. The phone continues to go off underneath the pillow and I. Am starting to see visions of "who" again, but nothing. Clearly we have been sorry for some time and unable to express. Trains departing to all points
West means very little when you cannot make. North or South of it all. Should probably be in quotations. If you heard it inside myself. Is where things start. To take on shape is a commitment and I am committed, but I am knotted. If that makes sense you are imaginary and I thank. You might be a little cookied, if it's possible to think at all. Times are rough and I keep having this vision where you are dead and I am wearing thin. Excuses for lingerie, but they keep on
me like body paint. The hog keeps vomiting fire. Squeezed in a hand twice its size. Hilarious to June because she can laugh. From the nose bleed seats, the ticket makes more sense while other people cheer something radical underneath the seats like a mile long fungus thinking it might stymie scientists by flying beneath our feet is an engine of proportions difficult to grasp. If not for pen and paper. Can run short when
they all speak to you at once
is when you know you may be on drugs. Perhaps onto something is what your psychiatrist continues to say. The monotony broken if a spate of humor was forthcoming to grant an excuse to be a complete. Personhood is granted by waiting in line. For brains and a heart, I am not sure I would take her up on a quest like that. You are bound to run into ghosts. Who agree with you a lot less. Smelling twice as bad as I would rather be dead than sing songs to Gods
made by men. Abstractions can be an excuse in this day and when did I age out of toys. I've got my eye on some dog collars that would look. The other way in the dimmer switched hours of whatever. He waits beside a street lamp. With disgusting patience. Going out there or not is a luxuriant choice. Among however many more will be. Had the doctor been a typical. Sex change? That I eat too much. Will you help me? I've had a terrible go of lunch of late. I promise I will share.
