Body laced into the air and surrounded by warm sky wind. Just beyond the easternmost cloud is the future marked in time and place. Sailboats web the red sea behind my eyelids and there is fortitude to be found in indifference. Do intuit your whole body into it, the recipe for pleasure is contented leisure and the belief in mm mm good will curdle your socks like a cat at your box. Hey cat, shall we scat along the windowsills and upon the orchards? This is all a series of giggles scrawled onto pages and pages. And these are the ages when the hesistant lines between just our mere fleeting eyes contact wounds, the uncertain multitudes must do be aware of this fuzzy despair.
I just meant I mean just.
Ow, my face hurts.
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