To Whom It May Concern:
Tonight is like driving in cars for miles.
Tonight is like being suspended between.
Feeling is something that I do in private.
I am moving fast, but not fast enough.
The past isn’t dead; it isn’t even past.
Dear Sensible Architect,
Sensible, as in shopper?
As in, petite with soft hands and mild-mannered corruption?
Staying still does not mean that nothing is being moved.
I’m afraid that one needs more than sense to make something stand.
Forthright & Frank,
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