Simple pleasures meet in the open.
I can’t remember if I have forgotten, or just don’t care.
Or ever did.
But I feel something nice.
Even in the rotten, broken little core.
I feel the near paradoxal overflow of possibility.
Freedom the like of which undreamed.
Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much.
And even if there was nothing bad,
Doesn’t mean there was nothing wrong.
Get it?
