out in the sweet unknown.

i feign to dwell.

to breathe means to smell your own boogers.
so, i suppose,

                      i dwell on that sensation quite often.


hence,

             i must say,


         most of the fresh dewey air does not have the opportunity to reach my flaccid brain.




               Go on now.

Come on, now,
don't be shy.


Keep reading about my congestion issues.
                   That happens to parallel my souls demise into its personal revelation into becoming a                                                                              recluse.



     CLAIM ME OH PIOS SINNER!

I am yours for the taking,

 as well as the keeping.