The thick blue paint oozed down the canvas just the way it did from the tip of his…

I’m not the painter here but he’ll paint on anything. Especially if it makes my pits tingle and drench the sleeves. There was something expanding inside my chest so I took off all my sweaty clothes. After screaming in some funny moon language I asked for a cup of chamomile with extra sweet cream. When he brought it, I scrunched my nose and told him he was beautiful. Everything hurts and the thought of food is overwhelming. I’m thinking about quitting my writers workshop, they just don’t respect the process. Then again maybe I should stop worshiping the process and make some better balanced grammatically correct sentences. If only my minds could stop jumping around the page. Earlier today there was a black cat in the parking lot. It’s tail was up and curled just at the end. And when I opened the door Beethoven Symphony number 9 was playing and made me pee my pants a little bit. I hate it when that happens. Just imagine all those women who fainted for the first time hearing him.

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