Texty: Picket Line. Chapter:End. End With This.

The shadows here shine white and the mirrors age. Summer led me to the lake. The dermis now baked (on my arms) and she said tiptoe my waters, but I only slid on the glass. And I?m sorry for me too, I was born on a fault line.

God couldn?t have flooded the world without you, so thanks for this farewell

She speaks without vocal vibrations, and uncovers my ears. Now my ice aches from dehydration, but I need 32 degrees to melt. Telephone lips receive ears. Winter is a sweet girl.

In that fatal word farewell, I?ll fashion a greater ending next time.

I?ve been having a heavy hand with the touch-tones, your voice blares at me like a megaphone, because you?ve never been so for sure about anything else but me