The ivy vine.
Again, again,
again.
That
fucking pattern.
Those tiny tendrils.
Squeeze the life
from all
the
other
sides. Leave
me be. Leave
me be. So
many demands
in
so
few hours.
To go with
it. I go
with it.
I
don't
know what
to say or
how to describe.
This new
way
to
love is
not yet understood.
1 comment:
"Bokonon tells us it is very wrong not to love everyone exactly the same. What does your religion say?"
"I...I don't have one."
"I do."
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