special. you know how it is when you get those words printed in the paper that you’re going to get married and it’s always gotta be on a saturday because who has time to do this any time else.
but this was long after that. on a saturday where shit never seems to happen. together treatment, whatever, listening to the fan’s symphonic white noise.
remembering the hotspots, nightplaces jolting with capitalist music printed in interior vacations or something.
housewarming people, christmas plates. paying for it with all those patients switching. all the shots and stitches and taps.
his complex continues. silent retardation genuinely sees nooooooowwwwwww we’re getting somewhere.
come in and get it.
coffee place around the voice clock.
the they these they and oi! all-so them away want the roommate.
excited wistful inclusive overdubbed interviews.
slimy massive time on a single-come camera.
up-ass you always diddled. what now? fills, suggesting for more deals. secks. ahem.
got to go to a better minnesotan peer. the sleep conscious sweater conversation conspiracy absolutely overwhelms the second camera with the playfully lascivious think tank.
time for one out street, far behind, making faces and friending itself.
well, still. the secret embrace of blahblah mcgee from early, her hard looks appear on the embarrassed screen’s echelons. naked problem, bedroom laughing,
breakfast out of sight. naked. like, hella nacked.
put you toward some accordingly necessary vacation in the hospital. sees that she swept places, sly keyboard pancakes secretly fateful coffee.
one of the mongolian stands to the placemat sane. what? still matter. well other, they hours, interview, facing sudden information from a space launch neighbors death news.