sensory deprivationMature

all I can smell in my little room is lavender and Earl Grey because it was in that poem and it is in my cupboard

this is not hypnotic and hungry despite having another hour awake of the shit tasting toasting to get through without massacring that bastard butterfly and the strangeness it spews forth

its spring in January but I'm doubtful still too cold and wet despite the heating being on so what about snow I mean where is that such a disappointment window

now badger them or just look at a picture of a badger with their cuteness and noses

oh wait they aren't real that was just you being an idiot without your glasses on.

I'm concerned about the fire and the smoke and the shower curtain whip

polka dot solar systems and beeping unshut doors and rooms around the corner that nobody even knew existed and people that are better than you and stop making me think about lunch this is not fair mmm pasta.

The End

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