evening chatter

bunch munch lunch unchertainly I wander toward you.

Looking for solace

shoes with no solaces

flapping my tongue, pity me,

I'm crying, I'm holding up my arms

like a baby, like a little girl,

though I can stop any time

just like the clouds remove themselves

when the sun says so.

Happiness is liking to feel empty,

like crushes make you happy,

you don't have them, and you like it.

Desire and pleasure unite. 

Nothing is bad. All is whole.

And dinner is on the table. 

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