Childhood art
Stop complaining to those around you, it gets boring. Whether you blame them? Their kindness would be to cover their politeness of automatism, in their eyes looking elsewhere, it is not you they seek but themselves! What do you do differently? Have you ever drawn a horizon in which you are not the hero who rises?
Anne, sister Anne, you never will stop to watch an unlikely figure! Sociality that is overrated commodity, made over oneself, artful, applied! Exchange of interests, instead of barter and non-life. Look for a moment! Have you happened to barter species? I bet you've only had the hands were vials of perfume: species? Say it's too simple, fragrances, ephemeral as sweet, landing on the epidermis to the hair brushed.
Stop looking any nugget in the duck pond where ducks paddle; Cross your chips in the eyes of others? Polite indifference affectionate distancing, kindness merchants plea in which violence is matched only by the exquisite politeness! You have used up your credit, move along, nothing to take.
beings are fueled with archaisms and air time. They call it true or "right thing" or they do not call it work and without asking any questions. Their archaisms there is nothing to say, they deliver them dressed in projects, punched back by corporation, the sheep or crooks, legal anyway! You also concoct your archaic, warm under your jacket. This is where your trembling glow, it's nobody's business. And if one has to be approached, you dismiss strongly with what you have on hand: hunting or fly sentence glossy.
So stop complaining, it becomes tasteless.
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