He waited for a while at the bus stop. He saw the girl from before approaching and he hid his face under his scarf. Didn't want to be seen. He hoped on and got to the upper deck.
Strange how occurrences occur. It all started brightly. A mish mash of words, something truly, very innocent. A not necessarily masterful depiction of pretty much not much, maybe less than much. Speaking of which, much more could and maybe should be told. That on high glass was heaven. That on low it creaked, reeked, surely steamed! How doubtful really. I mean why didn't he get the ticket on time. And here he was on a bus. Looking through the window and finding a reflection. That shows him himself. Him and the girl. The girl that seems to chase him. Why would he care indeed! To have held and beheld were the findings of true composure. But to simply lay. Like mournful, happy, abandoned. Like a true puppet. But a serious one. One that knows he's a puppet but says why not. It wouldn't all have been like this always. The girl was near him and so on. But the reflection... It's glass right?! There was no more to say. His head nodded and so what. He got up and knocked on the side window turning around to her.
-Go on, have me!!
I guess any boyfriend had to say something.
- I wasn't talking to you milkshake!!
And there it was. Needless to describe the passionate affair. So there was blood! And why not really. Man are men. In groups. To make history or story who cares. Is there really someone to matter. He felt the ache of simple sorrow harder. Meta had gone foraging and found a match. A match of ignoramanamia.
Ok. Description. He got home. Cleaned his mouth. Spat a bit. Cursed a bit. Washed his face.
That was about it.
He dangled the multi chandelier sculpture he had made and he crept into nothing. Sat. Shat. Ate a bit.
Strange how occurrences occur. It all started brightly. A mish mash of words, something truly, very innocent. A not necessarily masterful depiction of pretty much not much, maybe less than much. Speaking of which, much more could and maybe should be told. That on high glass was heaven. That on low it creaked, reeked, surely steamed! How doubtful really. I mean why didn't he get the ticket on time. And here he was on a bus. Looking through the window and finding a reflection. That shows him himself. Him and the girl. The girl that seems to chase him. Why would he care indeed! To have held and beheld were the findings of true composure. But to simply lay. Like mournful, happy, abandoned. Like a true puppet. But a serious one. One that knows he's a puppet but says why not. It wouldn't all have been like this always. The girl was near him and so on. But the reflection... It's glass right?! There was no more to say. His head nodded and so what. He got up and knocked on the side window turning around to her.
-Go on, have me!!
I guess any boyfriend had to say something.
- I wasn't talking to you milkshake!!
And there it was. Needless to describe the passionate affair. So there was blood! And why not really. Man are men. In groups. To make history or story who cares. Is there really someone to matter. He felt the ache of simple sorrow harder. Meta had gone foraging and found a match. A match of ignoramanamia.
Ok. Description. He got home. Cleaned his mouth. Spat a bit. Cursed a bit. Washed his face.
That was about it.
He dangled the multi chandelier sculpture he had made and he crept into nothing. Sat. Shat. Ate a bit.
