"I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe" ~ Sir Philip Sidney

At this point in my life, what do I want to eat a slice of German chocolate cake this is no big deal for others, a taste hits me with dairy and sugar, I vent in this safe space because you understand suffering from allergies, if I puke puke, puke on cold gray stones, you see, the twist only makes no difference, my teeth erode in the case of bulimia, I spend needless time worrying about the time time as a commodity to enjoy in this world, to reflect upon the chrome nothing too distorted, happy and gay my how things change, as language takes a ride yes, I want to have my cake and eat it life is simple but not so easy, choose if it makes you sick, then it is poison for you, but for others, they take a shot every time, they pull the trigger, they live what do I want, to let go on a chaise hat in hand, pen in hand, snug as a gun at this point, to be like others, no joke the joke is otherwise, for without love D'oh! says Homer Simpson, everyone loves old cartoon...

A knock on the door, then the doorbell rang knell not on Saturday, Mumma called out nocturnal not diurnal, he wakes up only the whole cross-country team, so wrong calling on a suitor, Vruvvi got dressed killing time, asleep in bed, without fault on his shoulders, weight of the world, a slap now and then, to wake up children from dreams the whole team loved to give him grief, they sassed him when he forgot to wake for practice everyone in the atrium, waiting doors open, opportunity, backspace on the keyboard, one step forward, guiding only no one sees, two steps back, sea foams remember the beauty, childhood long gone the knock on the door, Mumma calls, times past he remembers, running behind for work enter the field of memory, glass pane never to touch again, palpable thoughts then, Vruvvi rode the train, thinks on times lost he lacked the discipline, speed of a quark even meditation, no help, no use doors close, decades catch up, turn off the lights only Vruvvi,...