If we`re talking about loveThen I have to tell youDear readers, I`m not sure where I`m headed.I`ve gotten lost before.I`ve woke up stone drunkFace down in the floor.Late afternoon, the house is hot.I started, I jumped up.Everyone hates a bore.Everybody hates a drunk.This may be a lit inventionProfessors muddled in their intentTo try to rope in followersTo float their malcontent.As for this reader,I`m already spent.Late afternoon, the house is hot. I started, I jumped up.Everyone hates a sad professor.I hate where I wound up.Dear readers, my apologies.I`m drifting in and out of sleep.Long silence presents the tragediesOf love. Not the age. Get afraid.The surface hazy with attendant thoughts.A lazy eye metaphor on the rock.Late afternoon, the house is hot.I started, I jumped up.Everyone hates a bore.Everybody hates a drunk.Everyone hates a sad professor.I hate where I wound up.I hate where I wound up.
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