Day 17
The downside of being clever is... everything. Let your grip slip and rope burns you get.
Crochet a blended kick-back thrust with a twist and response is... nary a parry.
Feign innocence for thin shell of stuttered dawning and the night yet continues.
What profits there be if words are strung with dust and alone? All that is brittle is not
bone and blog braces and buggy bumpers only land us down a well-meaning, well, meaning down a well.
If purse-strings ghost on purpose and heart-strings host on yearnings, then speak but softly to
the hand that blocks for Plato.
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