Your breakwater, Asperger’s, flusters. You are a vowel sometimes, chance repetition going towards language bait. You, Asperger’s, frame something causal in life sequence, excepting the social as downright. Oxygen, the pattern of lament in the tower climate, calls only portions for you. Classicists rearrange the vocabulary for constancy. Asperger’s is a homing, albeit prone to stab in the dark. Craters on the moon report as reflections of outside. Process a cambric sway, Asperger’s, thru machinations of distinction. Torn prose figures mightily, you suckers in the crowd. Asperger’s does have a home town.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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