I feel it spread the peanut out, as dry and thin as the velvet water. It's black but shines and gleams as though in a v. You said it so matter-of-factly; I felt your answer so sharply and clearly. I'm convinced of the plane overhead and the snow outside and the bubbles in my water. You feel me as you leave.
I wonder what you fall asleep to; a siren or a flower's growth? I wish I could find that damn dog but I think he jumped the fence and swam to the other building. They say there s a garden on top, so it's no wonder; tomatoes were his favorite fruit.
I wish I could stop being so cliché; I've fallen but I know I need to get up and find the package that's been lost and the corduroy that's been torn. I m making too much sense again, aren't I? These aren't really my feelings. I'm taking references from around me and making that rainbow that never ends because the monkey watches it go down to the core. To the core that's scientific and proven: to the core that is hot liquid, sprouting tiny sprigs.
I appreciate it, I really do. I just wish I could find the emotion in my heart; no not the emotion, but the ambition; no, not the ambition, but the courage. Yes. The courage that I ll find that prince and that perfect, oh so perfect, flower. Or plate.
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