Schleprocking our way to a hot box in that Bellevue ward might not have been the best idea in the next dimension, but there was not that access where we were committed to that Earth in which she spoke my name, touched my neck.

Hers hurt and I warned her, I saw it coming. frnkly, it was her fault because she liked the burden she carried but by that point I had deafened myself with Meinong's jungle blaring from my earphones.

You're edging the boiler room wanting to get caught. It only takes a minute but only such that that minute matters and not the minutes before that (it's always been all of the second and none of the first). Don't jump through my ears and walk through my mind after you made me choose steam over the smoke from your lungs into mine, babe.

If I remembered what Information felt like and if the ice had been cold in the summer, I would believe in the burning snow and I could invent inspiration again