Their idleness, aimless and languid airs.

Dear R,

None of the exquisite pains, but nothing quite majestic either.
Not like something fierce or eponymous;
Nor play-like, or charming.
Far from hard boiled, nothing so controversial as the burning of five hundred books.
At once new and vespertine,
Slanderous as in a magnum opus.
Those were the years in which I lived.

Word Dissociation

A curious shame- agnostics, presumably, make better believers.

Strength for a stalwart heart- peering at the rainbow concave through the bottom of a glass.

Games people play- oleanders in bloom, beautiful in numbers as much as in poison.

Channeling inwards- taking to one's own imperfections and accepting another's in reciprocation.

Sensibility- the inane ability to feel sorry.

Writing- conscientiously talking to yourself in front of the mirror.

Truth, Love and Understanding- truths, loves and overstating.