Pauses. Are broken by statements not tenderness. I always wanted much more than this. . Heartsworm misguidance. Disguised in abundance. Of thoughts of the moment.
Here. Upon these ghostly shadows. Of men and women. There are no smiles. Singly. They mingle. With the greyness of the walls. And at strange angels. They travel on.
This house is full of loneliness. Of sad weary silence. I switch on the television. For some company. Two actors. A man and a Woman. Give exaggerated little moans.