writ

of freedrawn thoughts.

the riddled reut, ne'er once face covered in chocolate, ask me how the wïttle wöllt dost move.
said i (the mistaken misfit): "the frittled wïttle wölt had moved once, for t'was it once in motion, yet rare is it seen by many."
said the riddled reut: "at whence did the wïttle wölt move, for if he/she/it moves there must be a reason or rhyme. Alas! the wïttle wölt, being very frittled, moves from once being set in motion."
said i (the mistaken misfit): "Methinks a thought of gold have you struck. A fact for your question and thought. In motion, the wïttle wölt is set from a touch of spark from the being of the quißt. Once the quißt had the spark contact made, the wïttled wölt jives from the bottom belly of the highest nït."
said the riddled reut: "my mind, had ago beseeched a truth now lay rested."

today is december 8th

John Lennon.

i only wish i was able to live in the era you essentially shaped.

love

i dreamt

that i started smoking again.

thats how fucking stressed about everything i am.

ass

i writ this piper of fiddled word and pretentious vocabulary (knot to mention appalling grammer), a break my weary mind did need. putting off, my lesson learned.
thoughts from post days and weaks, methinks months mayhaps? yes month(s). sad feel from my thoughts did kep me unrest.
i saught council from a frind. my quandary she already know (my feel, are they not hidden well?). confessional to a frind, something practiced oft, ne'er yet this fright had enveloped me.
she had me helped.

my glass rise to my frinds who had help me get bye.

lobe