Out of the Jungle lies Dr. Livingston

I called it an idea that never could exist on the Internet.

James had reached central access to the central nervous system, and for now he'd focus on the heaps of joy he might heap upon himself.

But he carried on never the less, with pride in his top drawer, and the wringed-out-out panties disguised a clever ruse at the bottom of the drawer circling around it, becoming organic when handed over, it felt like the start of some deciduous tree branch, and it sat there, until he thrashed himself twenty times for feeling that way, and letting the rest of the world creep on into his own, by way of a book that would project, with a 15 watt light bulb, the truth his entrails read when magnified and reading out to its audience with a menu of forgotten lies that were to only be aired out at this time, as it was, afterall only fit to declare proper at the hour and the time spent within its walls, sleeping in the hanger with a notepad, fire and the vague attempt that anything in this direction has to be better than what came to him when it was written. If you could've known that..


He was looking for the kind of recognition in his own mind that one would find while alone in a library, and finding a velvet edition of a collection which seems oddly familiar, a framed once flashed before him, back when the time had spent hours with him , and the chill of winters past seemed enough of a reason to celebrate."