That should be three points for trying. And one point for giving a care. If he cared. He wrote a book on it. Well that depends on if a book needs to be published. Or written. He'd lived it at least. Far better then a book, just not as many people find out. The fancy words often get in the way of the life anyways. A little look at pretty and miss the breathing, that seems all too much of our merry path. Yet all that pretty he wanted to call a lie seemed to stock up for the other guy.

He had a chair. Not a bad chair. Not a pretty chair. Not a bad chair. It did what a chair does. At least not what a bad chair does. He didn't really like his chair.

He had a door. It talked rarely. He liked this. When it talked it brought the wind. And change. Wind messed up his hair.

[discontinued never to be picked up again](aren't you glad?)

No comments: