colourmeblue

  Unconsciousness is letting muffled bedsheet ramblings about cold soup and black-eyed sheep explain more than the sun allows.  Speaking is as useless as bones; cards with thank-yous are fillers for unmouthed words, unfound words.)  Stop telling me I forget. The lights were off when I last checked them.  I’m not amnesia, I’m not without pearl-eyed youth even if my so-called brainandbody would like it better that way.  There are two separate entities here.))  They say packing is forever, leaving. If the suitcases are filled with coal-plastic teacups and black-and-whites, why would we go elsewhere and still want to remember.  The teacups bro...