creedthoughts.microsoft word.

I don't know what direction to take anymore.  Been basically struggling with restraint of tongue lately, fear of lowering myself in your eyes even—I didn't have that issue ways before.  Way before.  Ok, before.  I was trying to be spontaneous.  It's all right, all of it.  Anyway, something's been bothering me for some time now, each time I remember it.  I have an hour to kill, so—and I'm not going to go there early and have to help set up tables.  No, I don't think I will, unless I go there early.  I always end up going anywhere early.  Impulsive, restless, the works.  I wanted to clarify something regarding, do you have a pen? (2008) from crushed like.  You can go brush up on it real quick, I'll wait.  It would be nice if you did—don't think I'm trying to test you now, cheeky cheeky.  I'm setting myself up for heartbreak again, I know I am.  I know the pattern of a quiet expectation, then the sigh.  I miss writing.  My tone is gentle; I'm golden.  I'm being golden to you right now.  Hold on, making eye contact with this girl in an Infiniti right now.  You can't drop it because it means you're weak.  Oh good, this guy's hairier than I am.  Poor bastard.  He really wasn't.  Now, do you have a pen?  An instant classic.  Someone called it existential one time on a message board back when, which is way better than anything people who didn't say anything said.  I ended up getting banned from that message board.  There was some unpleasantness—I can never go back.  And I was reminded today looking at the rear of a van advertising surveillance equipment, a picture of a security camera, hidden cameras and the like.  In the poem, the speaker, a scoundrel, reveals, i'm taking naked pictures of you / on the sly / through the mirror.  (notice how professional and canonized it looks with the slashes).  I'm not comfortable with what that image implies, never have been, but I don't know what to do with it.  It sounds like there's a hidden camera somewheres, apparently in the mirror, you'll say, with your head and looking glasses drooping and your eyes staring above...which is not the case.  I mean, the reality is no more virtuous...that whole old man look bit didn't need to be there.  How are you doing, by the way?  I guess that's all I got.

And don't you think I had the best type of ending for this one down a bit?  I don't know where to go.  Nice little bow, on the package.