He drove through the darkness without hesitation while deep in his bowels much intoxication did rumble and tumble and fester and spread even after he had fallen into bed. Awakened by dreams he could not understand he lay there while touching himself with one hand but did not dare finish what he had started instead just rolled over and gently farted. Now sitting alone at his own kitchen table he worked up a lame and unconvincing fable to justify having been modest and shy and having gone home without saying goodbye. There's nothing can change things; he has no regret; he may be quite close but isn't all there yet; no man knows the whims of the vast Great Magnet.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
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