netsui

There is a clock in my room. A keeper of time and insanity. A steady tick....tock, tick....tock beholds my ears. Yet through this tick, and by this tock a river flows that slowly grows. Resting in my bed at night, I feel that river flow and in my mind it ever grows. What is this tepid river from this clock, I will never know. Yes, it is this clock that pours its sprocketed heart; with a deep and dark design, into the mind and evermore into my spine. As I sigh, I see the time pass by. My temporal river that drifts myself nigh into the night. And yet again I hear that tick....tock, tick...tock. I say to it, "NO, no. I wish not to feig

MY DESK: =============== Uneasily resting before me is a desk of substantial size and proportion. =============== On the desk sit many small things. A cassette, shifted to a slant, is juxtaposed with a fervent heap of reflective disks. =============== A keyboard presents itself with frivolous linearity, but is slanted like the cassette. And just as so, a curvaceous, electronic mouse accompanies the keyboard and caresses it with an unusually long tail that drifts off the desk, uneasily resting before me. =============== Nearer to the wall and daft to the left, stands a beauteous sculpture of glass blown to the shape of