Moths, if you let them be, are indoor birds, outlined in the skyline, lights off, the night calls, first quarter, your dad calls, what does he say, is the game on, Obama mike drop, autocorrect, fell with the switch on, stab, stab, longsword, and a banana for scale, drip, drop, and the poet gives up, finally, onto bigger and better things, are you in the Dull club, live, laugh, love, and the blue collar…

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

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