if we're talking about love then I have to tell you dear readers, I'm not sure where I'm headed. I've gotten lost before. I've woke up stone drunk face down in the floor.
late afternoon, the house is hot. I started, I jumped up. everyone hates a bore. everyone hates a drunk.
this may be a lit invention professors muddled in their intent to try to rope in followers to float their malcontent. as for this reader, I'm already spent.
late afternoon, the house is hot. I started, I jumped up. everyone hates a sad professor. I hate where I wound up.
dear readers, my apologies. I'm drifting in and out of sleep. long silence presents the tragedies of love. note the age. get afraid. the surface hazy with attendant thoughts. a lazy eye metaphor on the rocks.
late afternoon, the house is hot. I started, I jumped up. everyone hates a bore. everyone hates a drunk. everyone hates a sad professor. I hate where I wound up. I hate where I wound up
