Yes, now it can move onto the location needed, for the result we and you, and us, wish to be, for I will not allow it in my mind, at this point. But it is there. Still, motionless, in fact. But it moves when nothing else might. Closed eyes and whispered prayers bring it up in the middle of a body rolling to the right, under blankets, purchased without thought. To be awoken by nothing but a sound. But it is good, now. It is simple. The screen glows and reflects, the shifting husk sleeps beside, to be met with it, when broken from it's own.
>posting this stuttering trash next to MY cezanne
get out