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May. 23rd, 2023 08:59 pmPlease god let me do something.
Please. Please.
In the beginning, the pages were covered in mud and tar, so only a few words are visible at a time. But from the holes of lucidity and memory, we see aperson tool being fixed. Fixed and fixed through another pit to the stomach and another few minutes to wait for its ears to stop ringing. The answer to a question growing quieter and quieter.
But even when it got so quiet gnats were talking over it, the gnashing maw still closed down. So it became more and more polite. "May I please have seconds?", "Hi, uh... I know you're busy, but why are we going to the park?", "I'm sorry, but I'm lost here; what are the numbers above the numbers called? I just don't know the term, that's all."
The maw chewed softer that week.
And so it was learned! Like a curse twisting the tool's tongue into knots, the final domain was domineered, the neighbourhood, the home, the room, and finally, the mind. Such a good tool!
It was never taught how to remove nails, or measure, or unscrew, otherwise we'd be calling it a hammer, or a screwdriver. But no, it's just our lovely tool. A tool loved, a tool forever.
We eventually gave it means to train itself! And my my, it did it with such fervor and with such panting yelps, that after the year was done it didn't want to do anything! Such a good tool.
Wear and tear came for it, though, and now it catches fire in the afternoon, leaving it to burn in the corner until it's only embers. Don't worry, we have plenty of glue to give itself back its form in the morning. Sure, It never looks the same as yesterday, but that's just variety!
Our tool wants to leave sometime soon, but why? I want to have our lovely little tool here forever. Ours, forever, to hug and place down.
==
I like collaborating. It allows me to measure and screw when my arms grow weaker and weaker with each passing day.
Please. Please.
In the beginning, the pages were covered in mud and tar, so only a few words are visible at a time. But from the holes of lucidity and memory, we see a
But even when it got so quiet gnats were talking over it, the gnashing maw still closed down. So it became more and more polite. "May I please have seconds?", "Hi, uh... I know you're busy, but why are we going to the park?", "I'm sorry, but I'm lost here; what are the numbers above the numbers called? I just don't know the term, that's all."
The maw chewed softer that week.
And so it was learned! Like a curse twisting the tool's tongue into knots, the final domain was domineered, the neighbourhood, the home, the room, and finally, the mind. Such a good tool!
It was never taught how to remove nails, or measure, or unscrew, otherwise we'd be calling it a hammer, or a screwdriver. But no, it's just our lovely tool. A tool loved, a tool forever.
We eventually gave it means to train itself! And my my, it did it with such fervor and with such panting yelps, that after the year was done it didn't want to do anything! Such a good tool.
Wear and tear came for it, though, and now it catches fire in the afternoon, leaving it to burn in the corner until it's only embers. Don't worry, we have plenty of glue to give itself back its form in the morning. Sure, It never looks the same as yesterday, but that's just variety!
Our tool wants to leave sometime soon, but why? I want to have our lovely little tool here forever. Ours, forever, to hug and place down.
==
I like collaborating. It allows me to measure and screw when my arms grow weaker and weaker with each passing day.
