For Someone Special...

[Miss Shadows]

Where were we? I don't know. Tangled together in an uncomplicated place. Snuggled on a couch, saying more with silence than we could with words. My head on your chest, I heard more than most people have, and I know what a lot of people don't. Maybe you seem hollow to others, but maybe others don't see what you've got in you. You're a much more beautiful person than some would probably think, and spending those hours with you that could've been minutes for all I know, I couldn't have been more at peace learning of your complexity from something as simple as a heartbeat.

[Knight Of Shadows]

that's pretty touching and deep if you knew how to look between the lines

i like that nice job that's just beatiful

[KnockoutMouse]

I take it you've stolen a glimpse into our ongoing ransom for respite. We're racing the dead for breathlessness!

Oh, the ironing!

We prefer the term "Surprise-Pressgang". Not that we're necessarily a secret police force of some kind. We're little less than Comprachicos already, burned in effigy for all the right reasons. A nearness to Pan, perhaps, if only to mar an even more ruinous Panglossian future pretext. If Big Brother held a true hedge against unipolarity, we'd like to imagine ourselves as a kind of Little Brother. The ageless Tontos and endless Lone Rangers fist-fighting in Heaven under the singularly muddy banner of Hegemony.

Reciprocity is key. That is; giving back. Thus, the endless halving of apples. Only don't call me Johnny. Save when I'm angry. We do so strive to keep up the sullen expressions, uniform despondency, and incorrigible solemnity.

Hell is a real place. More than this, you need never know. You've seen the brighter dynamic. It is yours to elect without question. Others are, suffice to say... Woefully less fortunate.

[Miss Shadows]

I take it you've stolen a glimpse into our ongoing ransom for respite. We're racing the dead for breathlessness!

Oh, the ironing!

We prefer the term "Surprise-Pressgang". Not that we're necessarily a secret police force of some kind. We're little less than Comprachicos already, burned in effigy for all the right reasons. A nearness to Pan, perhaps, if only to mar an even more ruinous Panglossian future pretext. If Big Brother held a true hedge against unipolarity, we'd like to imagine ourselves as a kind of Little Brother. The ageless Tontos and endless Lone Rangers fist-fighting in Heaven under the singularly muddy banner of Hegemony.

Reciprocity is key. That is; giving back. Thus, the endless halving of apples. Only don't call me Johnny. Save when I'm angry. We do so strive to keep up the sullen expressions, uniform despondency, and incorrigible solemnity.

Hell is a real place. More than this, you need never know. You've seen the brighter dynamic. It is yours to elect without question. Others are, suffice to say... Woefully less fortunate.

Bravo.