That open market he calls home
The dust bunnies are collecting grime under the table. The powers on high have no say in the matter. Patter-patter. In tatters. I’ll make no exceptions anyway. Faith in the supernatural, of his own existence. Banging my head against the wall. I can plan this to a T. Making amends won’t get you anywhere either. She repeats. Notice that. I repeat. Notice that. Out in the open space. That open market he calls home. Just give me a clue then. Just that small piece of advice enough to get them going again. Turning the pages. Making the pages.
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