dma93
but i'm sick of engines and yet mine won't shut down. we sit at the dinner table and conversations are engines, you are an engine, i am an engine; it's funny how god makes things work so that we're all engines, within one enormous engine that is the universe itself.
my engine is exhausted and reaches for soup when everybody else's sparks into chaos.
my engine keeps rumbling to an unsteady rhythm and nobody else senses it.
"are you okay," he begins
i stare
"are. you..." he continues
don't worry about it.
and don't worry about it is my favorite four words in the English language-- or rather, the four most commonly abused six syllables in my lexicon.
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