The above written--whatever it is--yes, that is all free for public consumption. You should give nowadays, at this time, in this weather. This old throw and these young pillows here are buttressing the acquisition of tools for distributing wounds. So I am giving. So...some for this one, some for her, etc. Did you hear cracking in the big dark out there? I'm never altogether able to stop the space heater from barricading the aural season. Bluster a few feet away from my slow destruction of words. You don't even need a degree for that.
We all remember lots of shirts and pants, don't we? Asking questions wasn't part of the originality of this, for whatever originality there was going to be. There was. There was. Theirs was. Two happened. Rest assured, no one is effing me up now. More woven garbage is on the way. And one. Wait a sec. Where was I? Not digging, but remembering. Dismantling the unacceptable.
When I re-mantle I make a turbid--turbid! That's the name for it. Get it? Laugh now. When is that snow going to melt? All of this was buying warm time, hot time, un(re)coverable time. Oh please, I can't tolerate you parenthetically. Stop. We were talking about the backyard. I forgot that it belongs to the landlord. I guess that also means that humanity belongs to him, too. That's fine. I'm a self-proclaimed renter, and my intentions do not extend into "rent to own".
There used to be a pool. And some people. Over there, maybe. I can't be expected to remember the whole world and sit in my bedroom. One or two things at a time is left and right. It's very right of me to reduce expectations. Stop with the face. I only mentioned getting it out of there because you always talk about it, and I wanted to prove to you that missing is lost.
Besides, the snow hasn't even melted yet.