pockets and whirlpools

why can't i just publish something without a summary and a next chapter? there won't be another chapter.

this pocket fetish is getting the best of me and i wander without direction or purpose into the folds of your clothes- with no result save the obligatory lint and encrusted tissue. no treasures today, no roman coins or raven's talons. no hardened starfish, smooth pebbles of many colors or even purple paperclips. no emblems or amulets that may give clues into your pastime. you too are caught in this shallow whirlpool going nowhere. i crave a stone to weigh me down, to feel depths i would not otherwise know exist. to at least go somewhere, in some direction. oh to sink this feeling, and yet to make light this heaviness.

The End

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