why to wherefore
broken unfolded, as to a flower, that which is taught not to scream, the power was invigorating and obscure. to craft a document unlike one found on the ground last thursday, dampened by rainmud washout and smelling like dead maple leaves. decomposing composition scrawled in a child’s hand, wrong spelling, tales for the telling: a list of boys she kissed. we will enter into a novella of minutiae and shut up barbaras all the day. feels liberating doesnt it, walk yourself to work week, calm the crazy pounding with ridiculous hilarity and deep breaths, observe the undone coming of the mother of invention. she crawled across the pen penning scraptitudes
