#136

Let your thoughts slink back to shadows now. Here, in the winter inter which is Stephen. Ard and angled. Posting fences. Posting. One thing leads to others x-ed and o-ed. The more you carry, marry for the more. And another with 'is air fan down like gold. Remember: the obscuring light of snow.

If I will sever see him once again, I will break and brick of what he's left me. Profile it away, profane it. His hands, his ands, his arms and chest. Infer. In suit. In situ. Or in such. For Stephen, let us play him up as proffered. In the halls or at the urinal. A curled reminder for he of little hair. The oil of a snake. Susposes S at least, that day. By the sink, by the mirror. Chat or chit, chit or chat. "Best," he thinks, "if we all do just what we are sold."