Wheeling Weak Week: Day 2 of the Spectrum

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     I’ve got to mail you invitation for the props, the way broke into my cell with better vigilance than anyone I’ve consciously met. Reservations, second thought, judgment, lacking the prior morals of a well-groomed human being, you strode right in on my Vasch stampede very much welcomed and stomped all over the Mire with your better Bone build.
     How you never met with destruction of our disaster: I am and always will be of much, much superiority than you, I am in the world without end snickering in the ghost-smoke of your missing face through the moon-shattered grin of bruises you forgot on mine. Never forget how much I’ll (n)ever miss you.

     Just for the day we speak calmly from the fountain’s head of how little I cared of truly you, how tolerable you are to use and abuse me once more at a minimal cost you believe to be low. Dignity is the pricey item tonight, sell wisely for this buyer has been worn frequent times past.

     Forever my escape plan from the spider legs like disease, nothing stolen seriously flapping out from behind your perfect teeth as a sleight-of-hand’s offer. You showed them all right, now to cower since the day has been set behind the cannon. Oh oh inexcusable, inexquisite you.

     You are positively through and through a laughable existence of my understanding.
     Yet…
     At least your appreciation was more than what I can currently speak for, though I query: did it even matter considering the consummation of my soul after the ego’s feeding?
     Questions for a brighter day, called something, like, yellow…

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