The Creatures OF Backward Metamorphosis

It’s not often I wake up with the anticipation to have your arrival AT the front of my window. Being hesitant to interrupt the meeting of intended vibrations, I was very reluctant to even give into the fervent pot of its taste. We all know how it is, to perform ‘manners’ when within a business. We can’t eat without a sense common courtesy in waiting for the other guest. It seems as if the utensils were slowly picked up. My digest reads at the enlargement of your entree.

When the waiter came by my table, she delivered a coy smile, which literally made the butterflies seem to arrange metamorphosis backward. Those caterpillars in my belly stung out the very taste for my food. NOW, that the proposal is laid out on the table, I find myself in joy; as I actually entertain the thoughts of perplexed passion, in an exotic abyss. I’ve been awarded a trophy, but I have never even run the race for a prize. I simply ran because I convinced myself; a monster of annihilation beckoned, my very existence. I’ve never been one to go into the closets of life; I rather become threatened by the horror of those who have the power to conclude my every direction.

I’m simply aware of the coming days of summer, which can linger in the memories of the stories of THOSE OF YOUNG and old. I’m about ready; to scatter those seeds of the matrix on the cracked floors I stand on. NOW, when the door becomes of reach, I am able to turn the knob a little closer to my own codes. I am the only one, who understands the initiation of my beginning and end. Those lines are extremely easy to find out, but when the letter is being written for you, BY SOMEONE else, you begin to wonder why do we write out a plan? Maybe the plan is that a squeal will appear as the premier.