It is election time.

Purge and no-no's,
additionally,
A yea language.
Language, words, whispers, codes, secrets, paranoia. . .
paragraph annoyance.
I am running slow.
I cannot write words you speak, those are your words.
Am I collection of reference?
Is my tail wagging or. . .
it was cut off.
I feel so. . . sad.
I feel the mourning in the moon.
I feel the pressure to bloom.
I am not a flower,
I smell like shame.
I'm sorry, I'm sorries,
Excuse me, I apoligize.
Feathers.
Feathers and berries,
tiny in clusters of two and three snuggled in the groin of pertruding limbs.
I love you.
Was it a sign?
Just a plane.
Is it faster travel or dissconnection with survival?
Is it the way of life?
Is it real if I burn the pages?
Get these questions out of my temples.
Blinded by the perishable.

I love the way you write. It's so very unique. My favorite parts...

Language, words, whispers, codes, secrets, paranoia. . .
paragraph annoyance.***
I am running slow.
I cannot write words you speak, those are your words.
Am I collection of reference?

I feel so. . . sad.
I feel the mourning in the moon.
I feel the pressure to bloom.
I am not a flower,
I smell like shame.
I'm sorry, I'm sorries,
Excuse me, I apoligize.