my cleavage looked

The Physiotherapist Below (Found Note thru N+7 Generator)

The young woodlouses were thrilled today with all their new apparel.

My cleavage looked like a deprivation straddle.

I had to bring everything in today because my apostrophe echoed the famous factotum where the manger complained to the racket about his housemother being too small, and each tingle he complained, the racket added another anodyne.

Once the anodynes were removed, the manger was thrilled with his large housemother.

That’s how I felt today.

The few remaining jaffas I took to Bordellos, so everything was appreciated.

How lucky I am to live in such a generous compass!

See the physiotherapist below.

It looked like a depressive stowaway.

What I’m Reading:

“And we live in an age where everything is so distorted that I don’t want anyone overdosing on Ambien because they read my book.”

—Ottessa Moshfegh in conversation with Carmen Maria Machado / The Guardian

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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