You sing

but then there was the one that called out to the heavens and decided for nothing more that this that he saw would be real and be able to touch... never for the first time .... never as if it were the only one.... and the kinda of sense that it made in his head before it was stolen but the constraints of words... he knew it then, he could see everything in the bottom of what it was to him, to them and the truth about the difference... for a second hands weren't that cold anymore, just spiked by the wind, just removed from him slightly. there was A GLOVE on one of the pickets... looked like it could move and point you in the way that it was pointing, neither telling the truth or a lie.
and then some kinda click, a snap and a stop. kiddies dreams that we toy with, about finding glasses, smoothed by the ocean... something about her face made it seem like she should have been wearing them, like they were missing from her faced in the first place, not for the full look of black rimmed glasses or for her poetry night for her to project everyones awareness to the fact that they were there and she would never take them off in that slight quick slide to one way when she was making a point. that they would just be there.
it's just that they looked like the would make her face whole.
a little less hole.
you looked like a little chapter distinction could play a positive role in you life... a positive step to a healthier you, its the first of twelve.

there is this thing thats like fucking except you don't fuck


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