Literally Veiled...Readers, Skip This! Pt 2

Let me know when I've started. Depression don't and won't have a definition to me. As at this time, all I'm concerned about is my slick actions. I still have got nothing to type, so let me know when I've started.

The imaginary eyes of an unborn, sounds/seems scary, can even show me the way to so many places. I've been read about; I've read some, but you don't expect me to wear my heart on my sleeve, do you? I intend not to inform you when my pen is out of ink like the dead without flowing blood. Even when such occurs, I'll just search for another (feathers and ink) and take a popular product of timber to make white...abstractly no more space age technology.

I have a role to play that's why I'm in the green room. Yes, what do you expect? I have a partime job as a victim of circumstance, not having a taste of my own medicine.

This is my e-diary. Skip, close or shut down if you can't bear. It's not a speech and so can't be classified for a mumbo jumbo. And please, do not make me chew you out- I'm really good at that. I write without being on pins and needles, and what you say is all Greek to me. It's pretty funny to me because evidently, I know something's for sure, and that's to see you soon. You know, the regular joint, this place.

At this juncture, ten thousand and one things are eighty six. I really don't feel like buying a lemon so I guess I have to save up more. Skip coming to me for a demo-suggestion. Your present and past ones are seen as water under the bridge, so why try crossing the bridge?

Regardless of the route I take, I know I can't wag the dog.