What is this notion, This gaping maw, gazing longingly back at me? Annoyed at the very least of the intrusion, Enraged at the remainder. Someplace beyond this. . .
giving up the ghost, penning the posthumous end; at the beginning. As the crow flies above moonlit skies be patient-give thanks, the clock moves forward again; therefore so do you. therefore so do we
The battle wages onwards, Against fine lines and wrinkles. Let me get my coat.