love is a blind whore

Do you remember what you said when you were dying? Yes, I said a lot of things like, I  almost wish it were true...and fate played a joke on me.

Laughter is a design.

Once upon a rainy day in Cambodia, Whisper paid attention to sensations.

Whisper paid Now.

Whisper is Now. Not Later.

A heavy deluge increased the density of murmurs.

Ideal idea voices meditated.

Voices heard rain bouncing off recycled Asian war PSP sheets in sheets.

Steady yellow Agent Orange rain hijacked a life jacket.

He shuddered with the sensation that an entire life had ended that day.

Another unpredictable life was beginning.

Inside thematic variations.

Echo recalled speaking memory hastening a chill dance.

Cinema expression without wasting ink.

Gestures of silence washed clothes by hand.

Family loss. Personal joy. Simple pleasures.

Mirrors, weight scale, madness of blind whore called love jumping over the abyss.

Smell rain. Hear leaves rustle.

Extraneous Motivation? Fear? Greed? Poverty? Gratitude? Kindness? Love?