137: Love is a fool. A blind fool. Living that music is offensive. You’re wide awake thinking it through until a subfocus gets lost. You don’t see what they see. You grow accustomed, so to speak, directly oblique : but pointedly no name is escalated or united w/ the width of what beauty is!

Bon équilibre, someone else will choke and in a non asphyxiating language at that, one a 2nd person, the “someone else,” comprehends. What do you say? Speak to the world where all are over-partial to falsehood. Why should my heart do anything?

We give up weak words that commonly never happen, hack at reasons to try with the grit of understatement, fairer and fouler, neither the worst or best.

And you thought, that’s what’s wrong then. Hey hey my.