My Nature Is A Quagmire Of Unresolved

God Give You Pardon From Gratitude And Other Mild Forms Of Servitude.

My Nature Is A Quagmire Of Unresolved Confessions.

The Pattern Of The Narrative Never Of Necessity Wants To End, It Never Has To.

The Lady Has Always Moved To The Next Town And You Stumble On After Her.

No Matter How Wild Reality Was Obviously Often Being, It Was An Absolutely Secure Place, As A Tone And Intelligence, And A Thing Happening.