Decided to parol myself. The evening is mine to drink away and bite words into the sky? No more lovely banter will suffer from rent but each invading loop or lull will be given a mule. An echo to grind your teeth by. This will be called the wind as if for the first time. It blew your hair in the wrong direction. Steaming over a drain pipe but loving the revelation. In words do define many things other than actuality. And I think a !Hu! Is necessary only is given cue by radio violins ripping the steam dry off the stove.
Hemingway or Anna Paquin? Choose and make it an obvious myth. I ve got pancakes in mind for morning. Coffee. That's all. And oatmilk for the little bird. If I could ode to my son it would sound like blank pages in a heavy well read book. I love him. I said I wouldn't get black out drunk. What if? I drink until I am sleepy.