to those halcyon days of yesteryear


Hushing and stemming, filling and stalling, choking out and ceasing again, in an unfeeling, literal way; not an all-told blitz, an autogenetic maneuver, on-the-spot-on-this-spot, larruping out a shocker. Swaying in the slags of her evanished guise, deranged by the jibbering and tittering around her. Each-and-every-a-little-all-a-bit, her nub of nuts and bolts is failing, her view clicking back to that ever distancing line.

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