Kenyersel is scribing once again with a mysterious casual-ality. A mysterious endeavour, a mysterious motion. I'm nae caring, eh. Dorian was nae caring, well, he decided to fuckin nae care, even when his portrait was pure meltin afore his ain coupen eh. Kenyersel was up at Matt's the day eh. Another acquaintance, various discussions were had. Cups of a brownish, white-ish liquid were consumed over shady, shallow breaths of yellow clouds. The taste still habituates on ma tongue's tenements, still taking it in, still sensing it. We sculpted the air with the holes in our heads and sculpted of past acquaintances. One acquaintance was nae familiar tae me. A creature who shall remain un-named. He had a fuckin freakish name if ye were tae ask Kenyersel. Guess ye wouldnae ask him though as he's the part of ye yer fuckin frightened of eh. The part that only comes oot after ye sit and gawp at the swirling an twirling.
The creature was a victim of Kenyersel. A victim of the swirling in his heed. So he cut his gliders and went fer a swim in the depths of institution. Only tae find himself daen front crawl straight from green leaves to brown ones. He clobbered two animals in blue hats an took a heed topper fer haesel an did thon butterfly tae the metropolis. His gliders are all healed up now but the scars still remain.
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