What can I give up right now?
What is weighing me down?
It is not the problems. I’ve got control of the problems, so this must be something of old art love. Something I have loved for so long, and now it’s tedious, bored, I’m sure. The other problems, their strikes are anticipatory, even the prime blitz can be calculated for, but this one - - this one is a snacking cannibal. It pops up when it wants, where it wants, and the bights it takes; quite generous. And right before it takes its fill, I’ll give up that old art love.
Once I finish sweating as a shagging fish would, I analyze and identify with the freshness and the fright, thusly working my way through both to pick their best parts for myself.
I was mad this weekend. I behaved myself. When you’re close, it hurts so much more, but the truth in the friendship saved it for me. I was over it before my head hit the floor after aiming at the pillow.
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