Shame. Anticipation of dissipation of mine and yours and precious' time. Expecting the disappointment with unreached ambitions, set on an unrealistically positive bus journey home.
Feline friend, you shall become part of my collection of loved ones, in the future. That's one example of a short-term goal. The future-related one, not a sporting goal.
I have recently exploited my capacity for self-analysis via word associations, and am now entering a phase of love for the abstract and of spot-on simplicity. Mere references, philosophy, the metro, my brain, the shop on the way to morissons that has positioned the most beautiful of flowers out on the disgusting streets of southwark. It's a shame. A complete waste.
Enamored with the darker. Finally a return. Hurray.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment