in the middle to explain what I'll do

prettylittle 19 - 21

In the middle, I spied him. How I do, & does everyone, remember us at an early morning escape, ascending from all between & this that in the dark. Driving that night, in from the drunk-stench, wearing black knits. But now as always... aphonia. Your father’s long journey home with a poolstick as prop. I suppose this loss of voice, I think of it as explanation. The only song is organic, & so we were. I feel like I recognized him. He looked on my nerves, as functional disturbance. Driving down, that’s worse than staying nervously around, wondering symbolic. The vocal organs, late at night. About this, persuade me from the feigned passionate speechlessness. 

It was in January, simple. Having to enter, that sadness expressed by muteness. Days after we met, staying nights. Loss and apoplexy, and I, sitting over there. Of course he used longing as his sudden loss. In the passenger seat, be tempted, and see someone, relate to the song. Body function turquoise if he comes. She has since asked him never to. To all the impunity we were listening; we asked him to leave, return, and he agreed. Nothing but things I doubt presently. I know, knowing it. I’ll throw approbation. 

Before now I’m hungry for it, all terrible habitations. I’m serious this time, approving, and we both want sex badly. He wore black when I announced that formally, officially; we looked over to the left at the same exact moment. Sex loneliness at the risk of a tune. Praise the empty, even. Maybe I won’t as I don’t believe, I had the arboreal lot. Any sex that’s pleasure, chiefly empty (it was usually empty). Maybe the desire will be what they were. Right now animals caught our eyes, overwhelmingly. Not altogether uncute. I have made it, living in trees, empty, but filled platonic. He looked quietly in my trees; hundreds of you are thinking unimpressive. This was less arcanum, tiny, I suppose, still very pretty. But should one need a secret, a mystery lines up in rows to explain what I’ll do.

sitting casual before bedding true enough

prettylittle 9 - 14  

       

He just sitting casual makes me from parts into a whole

within windows & radiated anymore.

Enjoying I think the condition of being so collected.

Yours and maybe you I want,

if I should ever be to commit here in the light.

Ahead of it this anxiety-feeling I’ll just call of hostility

while in a daze for you.

Mine is to see & feel ecstatic,

to make awake to be whom I will,

immediate.

An attack, killers to kill each. Obvious. They are, prompt, & being. You never see, actually. 
In response you are awake & throwing still. Probably never I can see the readiness & you suddenly feel that too much. In my life from where I’m sitting formal, suddenly into sleep.

To talk to him… I only think I see speech especially. Your wisdom okay for that truth. Why aren't you oratory in nature? I remember that there is no reason to talk, to please. I want to make: that heat running me up & down. 

Now forget that plans for us wait. Denoting the talk, he... I. 

Love bones. 

People exist for this. That contains, it will get hot enough to have. 

Of course I’ve the upper teeth to blow through

it’s fun to won’t, 
it’s black, 

with you a consonant through at me. Get in bed

and for that, just for us to foam on our tops. Pronounced when my head reaches to. 

Enter tip of tongue, temperate as the gazing fact: 

I’m sitting alone, at or on or near this ridge

the sun. And the hands on him now be large. 

Ameliorate! the sun, hips to go against, 

I keep thinking to make something care. 

Waist, neck, and everything attempting. Someone will see better. 

I’m sweating myself a finger behind the ear. 

At just this moment find me. Amity explosive. 

Stroking a stubbled chin it would be interesting. 

Grease congeals me cleft to lower myself to myself and 

begin anathematic. To this and then that, 

the most useless of positions

strange & heated.

Relating. Spills drips down goes away and 

he shouldn’t be given me his conversation. 

Something me, onto me. 

Remember me with me. 

Vehement, hurry, before I bed true enough.

It's we from the branches, inevitably

prettylittle 88 - 91

It’s we from the branches growing forth! I can go, I've resolved. You’re the best thing, you get me inspired to sleep. I really have nothing more to plot.

I love you so I work pleasant. I’m too happy to have anything to say. Climax I don’t want to live without, and we’re close for our bodies tend to be right now. Events denude you… But eye-contact and you still are really more pure & naturally. I took to deprive of time, with the afraid, remorseful, amazing something... We’re different now, and I know we’re speaking intensely, physically. I get to stare at myself, to strip at certain points things of which I’m sure; illness & depression uninspired in the mirror, all surface layers needed desperately. Nothingness after.

Avoidant the whole time, bare by erosion, with you and death and in need of pruning too, which is always fun. To strip you fully, showering, I can’t wait to look.

Land of forest, a deep breath and it relates. Keeping a mirror at my bones. As we pass by her eyes for a moment, I quote a pet, old and grimed: poking through every denuded woods, I can’t justify what I’ve done… I’m unafraid. Long since mossed over. I’m starving, you know. Depurative. I know well that I have a new grave and so it goes.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- epilogue

O, how much I bathe! Caring, younger & younger. I'm killing the point, purifying me; I try not to be. Solemnly. I’m a purgative love, jealous but celebratory. In renunciation, inevitably. All the hope for me.

he who divulges, can this flesh crown you?

prettylittle 84 - 87

He divulges depreciative, orating calmly. He wears a yellow flavor. Outside, it is dark and he’s drinking, and his provisions thrust outward. Hold his boiling snow. Alcohol is for the inward, thus he left the outside concentrated, failing. 

He was busy in a timeward spiral, his head, I think. Soaked in her decoction of pauses. There’s not much one can do. I’d cough up a day creative, of lime-flowers, and tone with a drum onward. It might mean defectuosity; more aggressive I find, alas.

We drank tea and felt great imperfection, and I remember being; & getting drunker and drunker, a bell was spoken, and then I left. Delectation, that pleasure and delight. For you might do, driving a myth of a home, demiurgic. To slowly manipulate the girlfriend away, and a hiding away in some time. The creation of the universe with her fingers would be such a forest of unknowing.

About Chicago and New York and London and the maker of the world: gradually becoming more violent again, just as the leopard strikes at vegetarianism, being our moments, our years I can taste away, cutting. I’m starving from that first demiurgic love on my lips… how can this flesh crown you?

I make feeling in that mindset

prettylittle 80 - 82

I make feeling of the brain. Most recently low-growing, the mixture of that sun and me without trying, simply. The avocado’s point of view is a little frolicky. Belonging to the primrose those strong legs of his. I’m a magnet for choking the mind outright.

I’m not family; I didn’t like this like that. Making love, having tuberous rootstocks and nodding strong legs. I’ve been complemented often. A self promoting deprivation. In the alps with deer, white, purple, pink, I see. My ability to create such a young and early death. And berries, unfortunately, crimson flowers with reflexed petals, can get pretty intimacy only just awhile. In that mindset.

Describing expectantly comfort with strangers, a life donated to my abilities. A circular boat so I can find severe athleticism. Here I am, viewed from inside.

the day could look of you all along

prettylittle 76 - 79

The day looks forward, pertaining right now. I see far past this, I think. I might resemble twilight, & cashmere. Were you thinking? I want to. It matters, dim, indistinct, and I love that much. Deny the attentions, those appearing active in their recognition.

My hands are made of women, of twilight, sight as certain lanterns see. Living clavicles which are bats and insects filled with light. I think about it, but I can’t see. The window is open, we are able to slice but the crepuscular memory. The sun or the moon. I can’t see fresh air in my living everyday by them, in that cimmerian place. Let’s move environments, new reflection doubtless it be believed. Still on that island I want to illustrate, loves distorted and we've all night to understand. I am afraid, all the music mutilated, the night is a little more of a lot.

I want to know raining but my new irrecoverable smell wants to tell me in a song. It’s quite culpable, with me, it follows, and who is deserving a blame? I had always thought this; anyway it’s threads of censure, you know?

The most special out there, a mind unusual, honest, as I stop you. I am listening to art and I really wanted you. Importances, oftentimes, my originals, valued as curiosity. To be there of secrecy comes the bloated new, some curio of you all along.

urge tinged else

prettylittle, 18

Now you see that I’m tired. Foregoing and urge tinged, altogether uneven. True feeling anterior, sitting on the old voice. Altogether disheveled. Blue without my primogenitor. Mauve, bad or good, it all coming across time, lineage, family tree. Sectional sofa, sounds the same. How I’d like to move to taller roots. Looking at the loneliness. The good way, anthropophagous, is muted and I probably will after I tried once, I say. Remembering with solemn description of the upstairs, talking to the night with him more (alas, I thought, a final time), annoyed at the human flesh (his). Soonafter I return to erasing his opening (such of the soft human beings), and cannot be heard over the hushed chicago. And from memory, he beats of recognizable song. The direct opposite of conversation and rhythmic tap, tap, tapping. Maybe I will leave with me.

sipping sense metal

prettylittle, 15

 Sipping metal, I shake to death. Someone else oftentimes wonder typically, and  was I wrong. People do much, that holds through this comforting. At first things cost, burning in a fireplace. Failure, then inevitable when drunk, maybe and yes you were. You’ll get out of that. Seems I should straddle the hearth slab… obsessed with bed and a good idea. Smoke a cigarette being full of fashion, move somewhere else to the time. And concern yourself with windings and intricate turnings. Failure in the truest sleep, even be regrettable. Looking occupied, tortuousness in a theoretical sense.

sweater of introspection

prettylittle, 6

My sweater of introspection. I laid out in bed, good to be the truth in a famous and well loved agglutination. Consumed in aware, radically monotonous: clamped back as if glued together. To worry over independence, I shouldn’t have come a clump; coming here I can. I come in vermilion. Into this clumping if for no other reason. And make it on a monday afternoon, riding boots of bacteria; the city, he misses me. This year I will off when sick  with him. Blood corpuscles, protozoa, he must be in love with nothing serious & could be watching my type of word formation process. The idea of an impossible possibility, all serious. Such things getting darker, words are inflected, but those memories and reflections are making everything. Thinking to self, by the second. The addition of one or more presumption makes it all so romantic. Happen by self. So good to get. I appear to be the only one meaningful & delicious.

in lime like life

prettylittle, 1 - 5

In eyebrows adjure, but simply. I love the falling in this apartment where nothing is my urge. Probably going to love, but not sacred, at the moment. Solemnly come and visit the staying there. Where carcasses rot away in their Being, or earnestly, or with exuberance. I want it always congealed, no doubt, whilst I sit uncomfortably. To do something grand, to be new & fresh & hot, grease on the countertops, waiting for things to die.

Admonition, idea, like always it is for days on end. Sounding rock, gentle city misses you. In the beginning cartons of yogurt, dark, shiny wood. Friendly reproof. Just a little, that means days of spoons stuck in tables, gold and green. Warning against a week though it seems.

Multiple orgasms, gelatinous masses. Ceiling decorated ornately with fault and oversight, I guess  it means giddiness & euphoria. Crumbs and shoes, gold detail, praise what he feels inside. Ecstasy & lentils spread about, reminiscent of someone. Some kind of love stirring. Jubilation, coated pans. Royal, excessive, shaking and stirring. Possible feats scratched, hid. Brick walls with fireplace.

Obsequious I understand, but also understand I the stolen and filled. It’s working, the remorse, because relationships have nothing. A place where I reek of conscience situation, and feeling is to do with past or future.

Toilet runs consistently. Lavender repeated contiguous. They fail looks. Having recently doused, bite & wound, too many circles. Lime like life.

tonight it's near to see

prettylittle, 67 - 70

Tonight it’s near, and how dissension nods his head. We both arrived; I found altercation for a minute. We were, that very night, attractive, contrapuntal. And how the emerald outside would still pertain. Picture me on a skylark, attempting, though repulsed by counterpoint. There. Can you, begrudgingly? Smoke the idea in music, composed. I’m wearing the yellow dress to dinner with light kissing melodies sounded; I remember this morning. Rust. But my love, it's an island to leave, I suppose.

A blast from forever. Whistles, rocks, and then the noticing cold remain true. Melody cliffs neglect the beautiful cold to him, the beautiful cold to my own fugue. I’m barefoot to take a snowstorm at last, it will be to violate. To climb up how he didn’t, too lonely and difficult to oppose anything at all. To contradict me I wish he would, a drop of airsnow, nothing like the ice I have. I think small and he holds my face of watersnow. This group of trees I’m climbing, those which the earth tends to unforgivingly deliver, will definitely make inner. I don’t slip and fall, dying beautiful white stronger, and I envelop brief silence things. Sparkling extreme of floral leaves. Anything happened, a snow everywhere; accusatory of a flower I wasn’t. Your mind at which I look, I’d simply love to live in.

A delicate texture I make, looking. I look around lovingly forever. Of a color other, that little peak. Be confused fearfully, too. Green, typically, that little tree on top. Your mind from across a slim whorl, I see. A piercing platform. We stumbled within, I see.

Be confused for a need to look upon sepals; that tree above right, straight at the garden, and enclosing. There’s a bird. Red chipped opaque sky, here it's rained all day. Reproductive. An eagle exactly in baby blue, the perfect midwestern call. Organs, bald like mine, a black winter. I find I know minute bodies, who every once in awhile be actively doomed. Cells in the water. And with a real winter. Too bright to failure, especially. Red blood is something to see.

love to be present from birth, can we please

pretty little, 57 to 63


I’d love to be asleep with tired annoyance; circumlocution at one another in the same, matters the same. Finally, many a turquoise lake there seems. I nearly fell; he left the bed and I heard words where fewer would do. There are evergreens. He’ll never sleep with me; so I'm asleep after the shower.

In a deliberate attempt all around, we stood in the smoke, dressed for vagueness. The sky is a blue kitchen up north, and a blue evasive sun is roasting in the negative weather. Verbosity is tucked brightly off the deck. Beautifully I reeked in small shades; and over, played to never stop seeping from my orifices. Triangular squinting in the brightness.

When will I become a beautiful girl, and flesh & bone at the base, steadily adult? He tends, apologizes, saying through a thin cigarette in backyards that he might just love to meet someone spinal. To talk quietly in the back, to listen more and seeing more. I was happy to hear them.

Water like this sways exactly beautiful, as I had small water like a photo. Women all the time desire a chest for holding gestures, for kisses. They've been a lot more compendious, like this water. For years for him I felt awkwardly, formal, cold, green… and even tonight I need to be in my still, containing too. At least six hours since, presenting the essential facts, something invisible from her… an adventure was with me, I had fallen asleep. Something pretty out here, unlikely, and we watched in good spirits a comprehensive lake. Be prepared to have wanted the hour’s walk; concise did I come with you down.

Hard to make out, I felt slightly. Abridged, laconic. Even prepared to feel, or have sex, I’m unsure. Guilty, succinct. Paying attention. A vague face that I shouldn’t have, to unite in something already existent from his breath. This strange man’s disastrous concatenation, I wanted to prove disappointment. But how silently he sleeps! I had nothing of actions, opening a beer and talking. The disappointment, and how nice to have him to feel, conflagration … nods head sadly.

A view of my back in the morning, I suppose. Extensive, silent for an erection pressed badly to me; that destroys fifteen seconds. Outside, against my back. In my head a great talk about some rocky erotic man of land happened. Mountains in just the slightest.

A bottle of congenital need, too much time kissed and I slept in like a disease to know. Just bits align right, his bed and he, present from birth can we please.

events of hours hoped or wished down

pretty little, 53 to 55


The events of hours: by tomorrow I am chiaroscuro. I am whimpering, almost, with the night now and still, once again, of light and shade I'm made. I think as usual, hiding in time, an affect of silence.

Consistently a chicago coffeeshop, it’s contrasted light and moderately I attempt to hardly be here at all. Just a beautiful shadow created by furnished apartment. Choke back in the unnoticed French light falling unevenly. Preparing tears a mind never blue from two; I produce a clear cherubic direction. That adjoining abruptly, the life of me, all throwing soft light in. Seeing, difficult & dry. I’d like to wake on the table, leaving love hard and saying, knowing, thinking, goodbye at the rest of a room.

A dance around things, an epic poem, the East in chiaroscuro. To prepare then. Somehow, take me for some marked action mythology; have you found humor to recommend me? might a fire you are looking for?

Black must do to be breathing around. Velvet forms a part of female singing. I try singing it too, for me to keep most interested. The head knows all the words, I loudly need the feel. I never hoped or wished down.

longer sounded, long for him.

Longer sounded, upheaval give us this. My flesh for him, I need badly disaster. And forgive a rib as well. My head, I met calamity; forgive a breast with me.

Long sounded, upheave give us this. Forgive a rib, my head, I met calamity; forgive a breast with me. I call fast disaster. My flesh for him.

a large hallow, barely, bare

A large hallow, kissing might slightly scale thy name.
Gently just love guilty and violent come unpredictably.
And seeing beautiful strange in the natural world, earth hovering, over-time.
Feel guilty sudden violent heaven touched barely.

A large hollow kiss might slight scale thy name.
Gentle just love guilt and violent come unpredictable.
And see beautiful strange in the natural world, earth hover, over-time.
Feel guilt sudden violent heaven touched bare.

A large hallowed kissing might slightly scale thy names.
Gently just love guilty, and violent come unpredicting.
And seeing beautiful strange in the natural world, earth hovering, over-time.
Feel guilty sudden violent heavens touched bare.

Large hallowed kiss might slight scale thy names.
Gently just love guilty and violent come unpredicting.
And seeing beautiful strange in the natural world, earth hovering over-time.
And feel guilt sudden violent, heavens touched bare.

champagne tragedy temptation of sighs

pretty little, 49 to 52

A large hallowed kissing might slightly scale thy name. Gently just love guilty and violent come unpredictably. And seeing beautiful, strange in the natural world, earth hovering over time. Feel guilty sudden violent heaven touched barely.

Longer sounded, upheaval give us this. My flesh for him, I need badly disaster. And forgive a rib as well. My head, I met calamity; forgive a breast with me.

Champagne tragedy temptation of sighs we watched, slept in devastation and the power, his hand on the crow. To kiss him, the wonderful upheaval and the glory. I thought he wanted desire, convulsion, apocalypse for ever and ever. Bored, he said he was unsure to kiss excessive. A raspy tired, my face away a bit, teary eyed discharge, unintelligible voice. I was talking from his breath, thinking about the nose or throat whimpering. Into it, (I wanted it) but how silently I found cerise, almost, tonight… He sleeps attractive, moderate to deep, I remember if I try. How nice to have him still, red at an adventure. Touch my back repulsed early now.

An unlikely morning, an idea used typically I think. Feel pressed against, kissing for pleasure I remember, vague and erotic. But my love trips, chicanery was already existent just the slightest. Feel trickery, I was very young; disappointment kissed me so strongly that I will forever achieve beneath. Disappointment is a good kisser. And I remain true to purpose; deception begins. Receive sex sad and lonely and artful to eat.

true I had fallen asleep

pretty little, 45 to 48

True I had the corner of the mouth, a resemblance adamant, expensive. I feel between about my making nonmetrical. I think your flattered excitement looks like morning, like the hymns I love most. And nausea beats, it could be for her. Sleep chants used, something about you in my little chest. Remind me uncomfortably, a song I say. Just kiss the corner of one another to oblige.

The poem, around my mouth it disturbs. I open my eyes in hymn, large and delicate. So constantly around sleep. To praise ornate, with a white lace displaying of one another. My only thought is of you and porcelain. Spontaneity makes mentionings, appears a strange man in my canticle. His size varies from tiny confident, only just remembered that I was, too. I can't help but to cantillate, to chant large constantly for us. He tried to intone the crystal truth that I’ve mentioned to him so. His arm around me, we capered; champagne could never be much. I declined with a tired dance, the flute crowding him. A year he left in a lively, delicate display. Undoubtedly I heard playful plays softly, a dry sense for which I never think. The shower is formal, old-fashioned, which I like but don’t look for.

When he came back, he was a person placed. Neatly was he in the high-pitched laughter on  a street. I’m sure dressed, tending to lapse. Last night seeing him again, blue objections still bouncing in bed. An effect tucked in. I reeked of carapace; my skeleton, rotting rotting away. I’m getting boring, of course. Insouciance seeping from my protective lounge, from my colorless ages and orifices. And flesh, decorative or disgusting, emerald eyes that always matter.

Meet someone in a half shell, buxom, buxom… cute but asleep. After an hour I was light, automatic and ruby, nearly colorless. Up north to hear this, my decorated hair pearlescent. in the negative weather so beautiful, desire supporting the skin. Minutes I knew to never stop time. Coffin of amethysts it wasn’t to see. Awkwardly distinguished she sang, and as usual I, beautiful in my still funeral, will slowly think had fallen asleep.

humor in the warm, of a church

prettylittle, 41 to 44

Humor in the warm, continuously rejected. Cachexia after we met. Black frigid, I told him that I am. Medicine, I took you, I try to sleep in love weakness where I wouldn’t let you. Singing it in that I don’t want wasting. For loudly I am to kiss of the body, your cry for that. Due to tradition, I have to remain composed but am I? Severe typically before I enter, interested I feel and illness I remember. I turn as though I’m not going to be, ever been. Cachinnating, I knew the spinning unlikely.

Love before laughing always lights. Longer exist just once loudly to open the door, long hair and remember simply. You kiss me immoderately. For me, smoke tantalizing as he. After a single anywhere I’d love undeniable unknowns. Champagne, I got masted sailing awkward. To be in the gorgeousness abounding, another vessel used still same. Constantly a perfect grammar dropped.

The Mediterranean Sea manages to sleep with me. Indiscretion off at calumny. Let’s go, roasted lovable. I told him malicious, I’m starving off little. He insisted misrepresentation. Finally I become cat, that he would bell.

Stomps up the stairs, sway exactly slept. Sleep on especially, excessively. Stops within the arms of the couch and freestanding. Up from the couch to take a photo of us, his slender body. I can’t help but to see that I should sleep from the body, and kisses such in his bed of a church.

purple find me

pretty little, 33 to 40

An array of purple comments to which I replied, domineering: "I only had an instant."  I couldn’t know avarice. Between the tap tap tap of fingers I’m on him. "I adore you," I say. He sat for wealth of my finger rubbing against his. You, he, she & I, the four of us there. She replied that I held the most interesting avoirdupois on his shoulder. A weight to keep him sitting. His hands rested still, beautifully (before I interrupted), yet bacchanalian. I could tell by a glance, the shaky intoxicated movements of knuckles, metacarpophalangeal joints. She held herself in the doorway and uttered. His turning around to greet unimpressed, and her walking through the door... his response was characterized by you. And my ass, I guess. He brought me to drunken revelry, so I’m gently feeling. It's wearing off now, and riotously. The backs of his upper thighs already in view, he's standing. Defense with wide-open eyes. He barely lets felt how I’ll feel.

I showed him my city, looking serious... a sigh, not a smile. Though I no longer speak, he is especially serious. For miles open-eyed. Uncomfortably speak to us, tower above, shocked. Kissing unacceptably my drawbridge. I was, and he looks beautiful now. This makes me feel particular. So I was, in the up-close dark. Communicating uncomfortable, and at a southern meeting, too. I try my idea, I stopped being pleasant. Bedlam, it would actually happen.

To kiss all over, to have our presence, to have uproar. I went to his face, sex and confusion. A big hotel with themed rooms. It doesn’t matter, there’s nothing because really she just wanted nervously. Recall, surround rooms for doing, happening here. I try, and I thought he might have said bemused things; for instance there was something: he’s perfect to scare. Puzzled, a room called out to him. Now I’m angry, the boy confused. Another pulled his penis satisfied and he then went on, bewildered. One for free, probably to accuse me absent. Abstracted orgies, and a room, it’s ash-grey. I think he was claiming distrait, faraway and relaxing. Cotton restraint right. Being evil and preoccupied, that one had quotations around it and pushes my wish.

Macabre when I was bibulous marked. Everyone knew that all aside. As usual he’d remain only reacting. Given to the consumption of the rooms. Someone attempts to enter me completely; unsatisfied, his hand squeezing of alcoholic drink, readily absorbing for intercourse. I climbed an abrupt. Suppose my special thigh.

Fluids up the manner, I allow it for moments so. I wish I would, I told him so, and that I was assuming moisture: absorptive, round as if to say, at least he squoze my thigh. Assimilative staircase as he does, and I say sickens. It meant biddable couples walked up and down, and he, I hope he hasn’t tainted, that he’d like to. Obedient, past me, all women says he has perfection. I was amenable to the top, then he says the sky once more. Have sex with me, a statement compliant. Docile, behind a wall to wait tired as seems the habit of late. He didn’t deny or agree. He apologized, submissive. I was and he says he doesn’t care. White and perfect claiming. Supple, you remember, suppose air below.

Only meant it, the division I used to know. Of course ideal music in my presence. Something into two. So I went shocked and willing. Hot dry air fingers the truth. Branches, or parts relaxing. Spontaneously into his, nearly bloodied. Uninterested in consequence, radiation, two women had me. They and the official, and I’d like only to offshoot. In one room from either side I’m afraid I must speak with nonsense. Any I’ve seen, laying in between, looking never and to not talk.

This mattress on the floor, a window, another I accepted. A person and I sat at the sky, little, last. His apology, and a man who behaves around. A lot lighter and lighter as night I was handed. We left then, taking dishonorable for the seconds pass.

A pomegranate, a lovely blithe showing into events of the night. An apple couldn’t readily have made me casual. And then I as usual found and asked. How old he was, cheerful, naked. Consistently in role I replied, indifference considered and covering myself. The shower, now I’m devouring badly, callous. I told him as I dress life depends on lying convivial. He couldn’t, and while last night I was, he drunkenly began mirthful relaxing, and I attempt adorable.

When I went, vigor always tears fairly & perfect. I wanted to stay for my vivacity, actually pulling successful. In the night forever he aged me of style. Back and forth between us while I produce, nasty tongued. Smelled of sweet bromide still abruptly. Days ago turned sour, trite and cold. Down to the evening spilled unoriginal, broken hard and saying moving. Dancing typically, sighs, and I’m not nearly falling intended. Loudly I’m smoke and anxious about arriving. Ask me to soothe visibly, try to find me.

have an adverb, thoughtless

pretty little, 22 to 26


I wouldn’t have an adverb, specialized or mysterious like a miniature graveyard. I think I should try a second look to any adjective; there is no knowledge interrupting. New York, if passing unwittingly on the street, I am a guest. Language pulled over back east. Many pretty people shame information without saying a word.

I worked easily again. The average person walked across the street for a few months, fluently. And sometimes I’m sitting once again, resembling architecture. We walked in and simultaneously. I don’t know this little technique of holding our breaths. His intelligent nervous additions were messy; the scientific systematization of we, holding our breaths. Attractive imitations of leaving, contemplating whether knowledge were friends. Awkward or not, money that is owed scared him in the mood. Gun supported, we were scared and it was midnight. We both tend for tea. Ascetic, we held listening to share. I shall have to find another, characterized by hands and self.

Stemming from nowhere then, or perhaps suggesting. Walked up to one midnight, possibly his love. I’ll have to practice tiny in Tucson, squeezing triangulations for a bit while I boil of severe self-discipline. And a lime, do you think I shall. Abstention from all, they had a gin & tonic at a party, but asked in a charming way, perhaps of indulgence, was midnight deliberate? Last night I, typically the only one who knows a smoky house filled casual, comfortable, went to my reasons. We should be ready, sitting alone adorable and dark, brooding, austere, abstemious. I remember that, drinking a gin & tonic, confused because not sure if it was. Writing in her notebook, “…he’s ascetic. He once studied for the priesthood.” Did midnight, as honest as it was good, a sapling which is uprooted, have an abortion? Boise, charming as I remembered, is the right size accidentally.

Wearing white, deliberate, by the window. Walking over, the vintage casual girls in the Indian subcontinent where it hits midnight. Adorable brown hair that was cut monastic with a soft pfffat. I think I still loved every second, just the boys were unremarkable and religious. My mom had the most beautiful thing. Like when, watching the others asperity, an abortion is always intently around me. Rigor, severity, a roughness of his left arm. You must find renaissance still, alone. Unevenness gently over, when everything looks the same. Life, there wasn’t one, a tiny shoulder under a bland, overcast sky. Candlelight and orange could call up roughness of manner. I don’t remember bleakness. Not even head cast downward somewhere, and I most definitely wouldn’t be hugging temper, harshness. I was not positive, with fallow-sepia-fulvous colored eyes.

I wondered why he spoke again. Can you feel me. And he said then, I could, but this time with less asperity. Please stop talking, I’m in a beautiless world, and you want to talk, find me intriguing. The reputation, it’s really how it is for now. You want to talk about integrity, we can’t hear. I do look for and I was so tempted to get something, someone. Sorry symbolic gestures as my heart exclaims inside, and asphodel over here. The first dark morning, thoughtless, as it was.