sin stayed and set opinions on the corner of my desk. it read:
"i must confess: i truly feel as though i'll rest."
it opens statements from the chest (the one at the end of the hall).
soaked in a blatant mess: apathy, the condition of crawl.
it states: ours aren't contiguous. well, figure it out;
separated by a body of water would define demur's doubt.
a body of water? decide to dishonor? denounce the dimensions of rotting's sick slaughter?
i feel like the daughter, who feels like a child, who flew, once, just to be gone for a while.
an abrupt ending. her corrupt sending
of salutations,
and infatuations.
i suppose i handled diploma for her graduation.
an abbreviation:
SMH
there, in the theatre, it's read:
"steps and tile and floor, hall, and bed."
(single syllable explanations are all that were said.)
i wish the forest would force it's full weight down upon us.
though, dawn is honest, it's light leaves me tarnished.
i feel like i'm garnish, and the world is your oyster.
no, the world's a buffet. you're god, and my cloister.
optimism retort:
resorting to pen and to pad, to key and to board, and after finding no real reason to thwart,
i sit there, as smile finds a niche and extorts.