inter

cheap 'why's chafe our Lord knows where we'll put the remnants. Pace back and fro to fix the flutter (the chirping, the mixing of ringing with wrong-doing...). Stop occurs, truncated. Sound flounders. "Pray our eyes out"edness. Tome and time again. Trace the cracks on the chapped lips newly smiling, peer into them. Trueth spelled funny. Knock. Falls through faces, we lay ours out, open in the street hoping someone will gaze lovingly upon them, maybe take them home and hang them out too, why?