Sitting in her room, drunk on vodka in a cold winters solstice, she spoke in subliminal messages.
Her eyes broke the heaviness of silence in the crevices of my chest. Unwinding the thought process so many has embedded into me before, she proposed all intent, eradicated all venerable questions and leaving the harder ones to gain intention for the development of our journey into regressionOr flourish with expeditions that leave us with the feeling that would be our intuition or sixth sense for a better sense for the establishment of what is her and I, us. Feeling like a pirated number station, blocking out signals from the other projectile radiuses that drain the basin of my investments, but leaving me with all choice to drain my own, I chose her to encounter my broken leg stag intellect. Falling for the irrelevance to my best interests and presumably hers; we broke the fourth wall. She engulfed the universes inside my soul as I frivolously spun galaxies through the dome of her tediously placed warp hole. 66