Another day, another god-given right to post
This is now post 5(5) that is still virgin to the eye. I hope to someday soon supercede my low pride level and pick up the pieces of my broken humanity glasses. Please, just stay away, whenever you try to help you just make things worse.
I. New creases
A. Somebody steals the name
i. why?
II. Recycled episodes of Falcon Crest
A. Remembering my broken promises
III. Unspoken truths
"The infection had turned me inside out only hours later. My back, inside, was disgusted with me. I never should have taken the initiative to lap my house like that. To think, only hours earlier my temperature was normal and my walking speed only slightly below par. My sweet sweat ran like water, catching the edges of my eyes, from which only blurred images entered. She spoke on the phone, only slightly concerned of my ailments, but mostly cool like a misted sea cloud (floating through the window to you). She brought forth the scalpel blade, not sure if it was properly autoclaved. Sink into my flesh it did, right near the inner thigh. Sure enough my leg only had a chicken bone supporting it; needed to be cut. The cutting of the bone, which I witnessed clearly, reduced my infection to minimals and concerned me of my ability to walk away from it all. Much to my pleasure, walking was to the top quality once again. All you wanted to do was ask snide questions and mock the procedure. All you wanted was not be it correct or not very appropriate within boundary or without... speech suffers."
I. New creases
A. Somebody steals the name
i. why?
II. Recycled episodes of Falcon Crest
A. Remembering my broken promises
III. Unspoken truths
"The infection had turned me inside out only hours later. My back, inside, was disgusted with me. I never should have taken the initiative to lap my house like that. To think, only hours earlier my temperature was normal and my walking speed only slightly below par. My sweet sweat ran like water, catching the edges of my eyes, from which only blurred images entered. She spoke on the phone, only slightly concerned of my ailments, but mostly cool like a misted sea cloud (floating through the window to you). She brought forth the scalpel blade, not sure if it was properly autoclaved. Sink into my flesh it did, right near the inner thigh. Sure enough my leg only had a chicken bone supporting it; needed to be cut. The cutting of the bone, which I witnessed clearly, reduced my infection to minimals and concerned me of my ability to walk away from it all. Much to my pleasure, walking was to the top quality once again. All you wanted to do was ask snide questions and mock the procedure. All you wanted was not be it correct or not very appropriate within boundary or without... speech suffers."