a wordcall
lighttime.
lighttime where words are lacking. shall i press those keys? should i call for help in a strange monotone voice, unblinkingly staring futher into the mess of whispers that lies before? I could not utter one single word. I wish there were some yell, some feral call, a sign signalled in metaphors and semaphore, or perhaps even an event; can i ask you to speak for fifteen minutes before thanking you for your time and bidding you a good day?
So i’ll aim toward the sky. Look up, look down. Shivers up and shivers down spines, splashed with cloud cries and whipped away by a gentle breath.
Sing for company. Sing those words, over and over, in harmony so as to create the illusion that more than one voice is alive, is thinking, racking brains, is here. For they are, if you can create…
Compile the notes they sing into an encyclopaedia, mapping the destiny of foreverwards. Heavily bound with a strong cover, and locked with a combination. Send this through the post at an inordinate expense; it will be repaid a million times over. tiny thoughts are worth more than things which exist…
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