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lunatic
singing to the moon standing in the sand and the water thinking if this were a sink-hole I'd be long gone but instead I'll be a pipe dream for a blind elater they say the cycles make me a lunatic well I'll stick to it I'll bring you the moon to be, still
fence
He was always standing on his tiptoes to peer over the fence at the roses in her back garden. Sometimes the dog dug up the flowerbeds and he would watch the dippets like they were craters on a faraway moon — fascinating to him, promising infinities.
sound
It's always made sense to her that the loudness of a sound is referred to as its volume. She knows how sound can fill a room and fill a mind. A gunshot, a whisper, and a lullaby.
choose
Choice is a luxury, and so, predictably, is a torment to those privileged enough to enjoy it.
sweep
"Before you ask, I'm holding up just fine." "You've been crying." "I haven't. Just dust. In my eyes." "Know something about dust?" "What?" "You can't quite sweep it up. There'll always be some left, in the corners. If you want to be really thorough, it needs to be washed out. With water, perhaps." "...Thanks." "Always glad to share housekeeping tips."
size
"I'm fun-sized," she enthused defensively, at a decibel so large in magnitude she more than made up for it. Still, her brother mused, she'd always be his little sister.
speech
On lonely nights, she wondered idly: if I couldn't speak and had to use sign language to communicate what I thought or felt — would you have looked at me, then?
end
It's my ends; they need fixing Always splitting and dividing themselves— Of course I've been taking care of my hair, myself... yeah, I've missed you, too
cry
I'm a messy crier, on the rare occasions that I really get into it. My nose becomes blocked and my breath hitches in my throat till my stomach hurts and my lips feel tender. And all that places me far from TV's dainty weepers, but I'd rather not cry alone. Because I too easily mistake that for being alone.
master
They tell me at this juncture I am the master of my fate. I don't want to be servant to it, either, but maybe just bringing it breakfast in bed every now and again would be okay.
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