bluepenguin
Bulky, fur covered, snuffling, nearly time for that still torpid gracelessness, that sweet cold oblivion of sleep that lasts for days...bearing arms bear witness, bear testament, bear something. anything.
Left...left with what? With nothing, with something? Out of left field, or into it, or through it? On the left side? Many rights make a left? Go left? With what's left. Is anything really left, when we all fall apart? Over and over again. What happens when we're left? Is it the end?
Having one of these can be helpful. It can also be the fastest way to make friends with the almighty migraine fairy, I for one prefer not to have them, because then you aren't as pressed for time as you would otherwise be. Besides, schedules are similar to uncomfortable clothing, rigid, itchy and frustrating.
Smooth and cool. Obviously meant to be the soul of things. But is that too obvious an answer? Perhaps. but still...all that. Bodies moving, breathless and innovated, purring cats.