Foggy glasses and molasses in the kitchen sink. Ingest, you are visually fluent. forget the nonsense. the flag is down today you have to raise on tuesday. forget the stress. lets mellow until we hollow like our lungs when they are full of air. a fair game. a descent one. Always losing a little bit. Always dying. But growing none the less. Until I'm 27, then I'll deteriorate. Decrepit. Discontent. Malnourished. Lost. No more. Game corrupted. It feels the way that warm soup does. soothes your soul. The dream.
well now. Isn't it peachy?