Did you think that because I was silent, I was still? Well then, you trust yourself too much. My machinery doesn't turn off as soon as you leave the room. We've been working here, slowly at first, small motions: curling toes, one, two, three. Now fingers. Muscles under skin, cruciate ligament, tibia to fibula. Progress is not incremental, I've told myself. And again.
There are alot of things we need to talk about. And yes, we need to find a nicer place to do it. This place is fraying, you can glimpse the plastic underneath. I'm working on it (see: muscles under skin, cruciate ligament- yes yes, you see. I'm talking technologies. Clever, you.)
Football used to be the place I went to get lost. Somewhere along the line it collapsed into the sum of its parts. Lives inventoried like so many chalkboards. Hazy, vague mornings killed off 140 at a time before they had a chance to mean anything.
I am not a chalkboard, and neither are you. Let's choose that, and start again.
Football used to be the place I went to get lost. Somewhere along the line it collapsed into the sum of its parts. Lives inventoried like so many chalkboards. Hazy, vague mornings killed off 140 at a time before they had a chance to mean anything.
I am not a chalkboard, and neither are you. Let's choose that, and start again.
