all my excitement goes into the flashing of a message on a little screen in a little box
cradled in my hands because it is my child at my side that i dont leave behind and i hold its hand every chance i get because like a child it has its own brain that i send words to
and you try to understand what your own little box says and then our words float in the air but have their backs turned to each other because im not entirely sure of what they look like, though you did kind of describe them to me but maybe you dont quite see the shine in mine and then maybe i dont know the sway in the step of yours because i tend to ramble on and my thoughts get trample-stampled in a stampede of senseless endless when i really need less- chattering.
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