But, shhh! Don`t go around telling everyone. It`s kind of an undisclosed data; precious goods. My precious!
A corner of all bruised naiveties. Sanctuary city for a small group of banished emigrant Self species. It`s a full pail of tiny wet emotions: few positive things, couple of pathetic e(a)ffects, roughly a dozen of happy stuff traces, and of course some compassion ballast. Hefty but elemental.Among them, three or four meaty ass reconciled hatreds, and a worn-out dusty old flare. Crumbles of dreadful despair and big chunks of fleshy, juicy hope. Actually, everything is soaked in daydreaming. A real pipe dream avenue there. Stashed in the outskirts of my reason. Away from any strict judgement. It`s all sticky and sunny. Reeks like organic compost and good old memories. Tastes like..organic compost and life.
I`m always thankful when they let me crawl into the bucket; submerge my aseptic strident fears into their embracing plasma.
