Left-Handed Chronicles: 3

26 Jul

My regularity imposes itself on your most highly esteemed foot, twice or once I’ve been in danger of receiving from you  that dirty look, or have I mistook, from over that book, and admiring-ation for a disgruntled, hook-like shadowy smirk, plastered on a muddy red-eyed normality-embracing blank canvas…I took from your book about politics, that soot only need mentioning once to make moot a noble reputation, a pure discomplication, a kind word, backwards, and destroying reason for condescension—

That your eyes could speak less, and your heart more.
That your breath would create less condensation and be a lovely sensation to hear.
You’ve created the perfect environment for bacteria to fester in these temporal canals,
these sound channels,
these hearing animals,
these listening mammals.

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