The hour followed her out of the room with her hyper color hair. She exhibits and inhabits beauty with exacting balance. Widely blinking out the need for more than water. Minutes and seconds gather at her feet just to stand close. They increase and are never enough for an approach. Becoming hours, they continue out of the room…wrapped up in her wake. Clocks dry up and wither so the seeds can be planted for when they can resume regular rotation.
(the curvature of the thought process bounces between those of you wanting clarity.)
Once again she found a key stroke to set the flames on a war path. Righteous weapons rightly given and safely posted dormant for the duration of the down time. My own wrath comes from this one day clause. Cosmic ,maybe comic, -ly insufficient. I'm laid waste to the under met kavod, and how pervasive it must be in every corner to keep the building standing. I think she is safer outside...
Who want to have a high-rise happen upon them?
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