I s’pose this is actually “liquor language” now, eh?
Stop me from making that assumption. Keep you from becoming unorganized. Insist on the truth. Allow this to register as the norm; meaning this reality. A decade doesn’t exist when day forty-nine feels like day one: a brand new wound exposed to the elements. By day seventy-five all will be restored only to start over again. “From the top!”
Here goes. Let go. He goes. We go. Where has this gone?
Seal the entrance. Allow no one in and no one out.