Wrongest one to plug a hole.
My thoughts turn to alcohol.
One half is swallowed hole. All agog at the differences in the blank paper crease.
It's creasing my fore-head up with the rise of confused eye-brows.
Gawp for entire days at the warp of the window frame.
Attempt to make connections without the use of physics knowledge. All agape at the purity of the perfectly blank sky
and the horror that it turns into when I accidentally change my mind.
There's a sound that I listen to that is too low to record
And it resonates inside my small intestine, changing up my guts.