all convalescent on the noontide crept blithely past the moor you couldn't say i haven't survived but I'm arguably not alive anymore and here the focal point the address says return to me, i miss you still and i laugh i wrench i'm guilty if the hill don't die on me then i will coarsely i size the defect hoarsely i voice concern perversely i still affect to never leave to never return it's an animated skeleton sunk cheek long week to bear and the days fell apart like a newspaper full of rain so untamed so delicate and you clasped your hands together a well maintained insulated purse and i thought 'i hope this don't last forever' and i said 'who knew grief could be so well rehearsed' and the silver headed one engaged like a telephone asked how i was, wished i were worse and then returned to his replacement for filing mixers sipped astringent and liquor glugged terse and I took a train at the end of it all several ...