My stomach lurches like the radar sweeps. Through days and hours and dragging weeks. I've pandered down this primrose path. Where I can't cry, so I must laugh.
Closed window pane. I stare out all day. This room and the walls. We wait for the call. And slow like decay. This progress we made. . Could you get to the point?.
I sleep to outliving this way. Because I live so well everyone should be repaid. . From all the East Coast to West Coast states. From the Atlantic bench to the San Francisco Bay.