The mornings end, sends love letters to this evenings hell bent rent free house of horror. Sarah hanging close to the back door, Roy in the bathroom fixing up his tie and Betty in the bedroom begging for extra. Their wholesome counter piece in the form of a civil ceasefire the turning tires tipping time from their minds and still they’re exceptional, ephemeral and pseudo-essential to the qualifying plot. Sandy can’t have much hair left, bless, the stress might finally break the repetition and steal another broken day. Only a wall between destiny and denial that vial of Noriox surely will not keep you contained.
Rumor has it that once the user, twice the abuser and thrice the excitement to entice a salvageable savage. Exhale softly, the compliment has spoken, for now only the token remains to drain sweet melancholy from the ethos boiling the mantra. Just one sip from daddies decanter, shudder but enjoy the weapon for its far too strong for some yet others, older brothers ought to understand. It’s not the fall but the ground that kills you. Your awaiting home, a tomb made of stone gracing the period of your beauty, storing you in time and space. Setting the pace for the the ultimate indication of when you were and weren’t conscious. The exact length, to date, your heart was able to beat.
Great write. Last line question – answer is “difficult to say”!
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