"I've got the Good Lord is going down on me!"

I wanna seem more subtle and indirect, rather than my latest vents of personal stress. Clearer than the clean glass on the tallest wreck. more turp to the canvas from the jar spilled in the back. washing clean the notes and words you've constructed. all spoiled the the crude oil, like a chalk board all erased up.

Emailing Prose to All Lost Souls

the weeping trees hung sweeping over the Old Mill and the roadway. On sunny Saturdays sitting casually by the lakeside, watching the auto's coming by. going by the water to gaze into the rippled murky reflections. beaming sun and blue sky perfections.
Caitlyn sat tiredly by the way side. feeding squirrels from her brown-bagged lunch. Doritos, Doritos; the squirrels away would munch.
"i'll miss you little friendly fuzzy creatures, with your wide eyes to humanity, and your cuddly buddy features. Miss you when i'm gone back home, away from text books and research paper trodden teachers." Said Caity to her brown eyed mates, all munching her brown-bagged lunch away.
my good freinds all say you can swallow the bad times away. bottle by bottles your troubles all mellow and you lack interest to meddle.
but Cait had a bad debt to settle. empty dorm room once over flowing with clothes, books about animals, and burnt cd's of underground hardcore bands. Those things now packed into cardboard amd moved out like piano players.
"back home to the B-lo" and then she drove seven hours.