3. "Thus the reflections didn't exist, little angels or some other false self flattery", as though the originally laid within that black oily self constructed diamond that they insisted, perfectly stolen, laid within some soul as they called it: drug addicts. "I've got it - I've got it." Some scream from down stairs, The little soldiers, striped of their hardware ran back to reignite the image, never sure what they really looked like, instead locking it in like bailbondsmans deposits, which are, after all, sometimes, suddenly returned. More or less. Sometimes they even rely upon someone like me to affirm their beauty, not ugly, but clever, and further that there was also goodness and genius implied, both actually impossible ( a fact sort of) and I had become unreliable as I had started telling the truth ; skip a beat and a negation, something implied in the naked quatrolgy that lacked the physical diamond they kept claiming. I told em it just was and, your ugly when they were cliched and always stupid, stupid, stupid, when I guess they were cute sometime and so narrowly geniuses in milliseconds that could only caused me discomfort or, to be polite, milliseconds being the theme. Like discharges in my brain - it crackled. . Oh well. Plus there were emissions, like they were combustable, and, ungratefully, the old concept that is (ungrateful I'm sure) towards some seduction, a succulence that at once revealed a lure that, in retrospect, I couldn't not resist .
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