Threads

Tangents and childhood combine to make three when you want to get both he can bring them beside you.  I won’t help you mask it but there are some who want to.  You dare feel inside it bare with me I’ll freak you.

Those are the words of a pleasant and forgotten man who once never again.  They are bringing him here to be served and we will learn of his folly.  Doubt is an option, it might be a tool.  Make it a whipping post for undoing of thought.

Waste of the cannery time seemingly frail upon dingy white linens and cotton red snails.  I want to provide you for ten times enough, but even when voting me fairly too rough.

Towels and tables and there went the plan.  Sure I can get there if you can lend a hand.  Up above circumstance under dismay I like to get you out all by today.  I type with no reason or wanting to stop and I feel like my fingers can sometimes just keep bringing things up.  When I can’t sleep I go here, I go there and back here again.  Then I stand over there and take a few steps and I’m here again.  This is a familiar place to me.  I sit down and type.

You read.

I type.

I read too.

Then I type more.