(no subject)

Apr 09, 2008 01:11

---,

It's been a while since I posted anything less than artificial. I've been so pondered and attributed that to coincide with banality was the exhaustion of my laments. Even now, as of writing, I find such articulations false; just once I desire the occupation of doubt, in that of which linens those fortunate to observe all.

I've come to find my realization(s); my cognition between. It's not, no longer, adjusting and such delievered sentences ascribe more than my actual identity. What is me? How far am I to[o] a faucet? Which lame forms, inserting [sides].

I,- I just want so much more than my body. and, now, as I've come to obscure my satisfactions I'm glamorized in my fonts.

What is to be position, to entail or hummer.? I want to consider self preserving, though,- in ledge of such clarifications I'm mostly moistened. Lubed or biffed- either insight me to dwell no further than a roof, a porch, or their settlements that I absorb. It is not [the]moisture I invest, but the piddled language of diversity. Which arch. Which arch. Which arch claims teeth.?

To find or mine a sedation would scant- it, benign or throat after.

on such lovely, simple, notes.
Until then, next,-

_Jason.
sayonara.
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