[11] It has nothing to do with- (Water. Blood. And what is wine, if not a mixture of the two?)
There is a certain art to ice (the kind that there is to smoke) but I have never claimed to be an artist as I'm sure is easily told by you - and by others, perhaps (but by you most especially). It only strikes me such because you seem so utterly enamored with yourself (with your own), and the flamboyance with which you flaunt it has been blinding until recently.
I never thought you the type, I must admit. And if there is a curtness and an amusement that filters through branches of dead leaves, where will the frivolous, abstract-quality of stricken ridiculousness lay it's egg? Sow it's seed? A blond, I could have guessed. He's young for you. Are you desperately afraid of your own youth waning? Or are you not even sure of your own softness?
Amusement as it must be.
The Creature grows. (A tiny ball of string. It's growing more and more difficult to watch and feel, perhaps. It is getting more difficult to filter and stain. I prefer coffee over tea, but it makes me nauseous, and so the cupboards are filled with chamomile instead. How effervescent. How-) I think sometimes that there may come a time when-
I will not be able to look at her.
Gravestones. (Best left-)
In my mind, it is etched some date, perhaps.
I could use the supplies.
(But, after all Sasori, the expertise is yours. Not mine.)
I never thought you the type, I must admit. And if there is a curtness and an amusement that filters through branches of dead leaves, where will the frivolous, abstract-quality of stricken ridiculousness lay it's egg? Sow it's seed? A blond, I could have guessed. He's young for you. Are you desperately afraid of your own youth waning? Or are you not even sure of your own softness?
Amusement as it must be.
The Creature grows. (A tiny ball of string. It's growing more and more difficult to watch and feel, perhaps. It is getting more difficult to filter and stain. I prefer coffee over tea, but it makes me nauseous, and so the cupboards are filled with chamomile instead. How effervescent. How-) I think sometimes that there may come a time when-
I will not be able to look at her.
Gravestones. (Best left-)
In my mind, it is etched some date, perhaps.
I could use the supplies.
(But, after all Sasori, the expertise is yours. Not mine.)