It's just out of reach. creaking joints clamber up onto the abyss of a wooden seat shining with age and use, why are the light switches so high here? Some rich dude remade that film on the tip of my tongue, and so many were thrown into awe at the suggestion of romance. Where are the sugar cookies that will make me fifty feet tall?
I want to be Jesus!
Nail me up baby!
I would crawl inside the woodstove, so warm, and light against this defective electric wiring. Bones dust worry not at a greasy switch frowning down the wall.