A whirlwind of topsy-turvy, asinine week left me feeling like a dejected gargoyle.
Empty, unfeeling, cold.
Fatigue-driven, has never responded this quirky, and had me keeling over on almost anything I did.
Maybe, when I can contribute some sense in the thoughts' soap-box, I shall write again. Maybe.
For now, I shall be a recluse, from verbosity to hiatus redemption.
The dejected calm, streaming into the unsounding corals.
Amusingly tranquilizing.
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