Two half wheels with many knobs and no spokes, raised as wings for the Fleur-de-lis, the black cat in the headlights. The bowing carpet, the dry enveloping wave, down over the whiskers that stab outwards, each penetrating slenderness feathered and frayed with tasteless sparks. Western halves jointed to the parting path, the minute thoughts that shine indistinctly with the colour of its eyes in the headlights. The raised catapult of joined wooden leaves would stray, but wrapped in forgetfulness will flash out and disintegrate.

2023/03/16 #DailyWrittenOOM