Think of a Title While I Sip

I clearly remember the day like the back of my hand, the day where everything went down the toilet. While the morning plotted you toward the front seat of the car and sat there gazing at the odometer and I thought of you, Look at him, going nowhere, absolutely nowhere, and he’s become affixed to it as if somehow and somewhere he’s reason has been clouded to the capacity that failed to entwine the essence of his brute immortality.

 

 

…And the rest of the living follow with an ear pacing above the ground while each footstep beats quietly upon the embroidered treasure chest. The over-top is cast with metal pins of dead letters I wish to have found—one way above the next—, a well of some king chances to bring anew…the marvelous bodies in the skies sing the crash of the titans and finally, and with a loud end I can’t complete swings and rattled the devil’s off its  pork chop stake.

 

My lord swims ever softly far away. “Have you me…”, I heard her say from the distant…..swirling up a note of blasphemous treachery as of yet I find no other mark to attest.

 

To wait, for something never honed to leave and why in absence bear the calamitous drain? It’s no surprise and needless to say it’s no one’s prize, not a monument to be spared or lay to the infringements baffled by the winsome crumbling’s  of impure hearsay….

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