Sharing in the casual language as you please, whether vulgar or otherwise, is a welcome and more than acceptable endeavor, as ever... or never? Whatever. This is the purpose of our latest and frankly overdue endeavors, as ever? Or maybe never, ever again, see? Permit me, with charitable kindness, to write for you all something off the hoof, as it were? I have, which in these times I've learned isn't exclusive... found myself so lonely - for the sake of the hundreds of things I tell myself aren't my fault that I've had to now learn that it's now or never... to struggle to reach the surface again, as it were - we're? We are? ... I make myself lonely. We are, in fact, we are. All lonely. Oft would I lament when I'd linger by the window, laying languishing wistfully near their transparent framed protective glassy separation as I remarked the drenching downpour outside berating all who dared tiptoe from man-made shelter? Beyond them, the grey rainy expanse of an unprecedented flat manicured brilliance of soaked acres, kept fenced and segmented by hedgerow'd mazes and plain square shrubs as far as the eyes see (an' swords has esses, noe lehzs), the elegant technical floral opulence befitting my permanence too? For my own insistent loving screaming, allowed my personage to possess a horse, no less? ... å oň3 løné p0nÝ. One only - a lonely l'il pony Ponies alone and only one A little lonely, listless pony? One last horse, of course! For the sake of the hundreds of things I tell myself aren't my fault that I've had to now learn that it's now or never to struggle - reach the surface, again as it were? We're? We are? I make myself lonely... ... what am I doing exactly? Right? We are, in fact, we are. All lonely. Precisely, exactly? You get me. Beyond the limits of my gauzy drunken eyes... beautiful eyes once? Loved by my doting parents - and a boy I met in kindergarten named Florence - now rubbed raw by the coarse salt in my tears and the sheer maddening force of my pressing knuckles as I crushed the damned watery heartache out of my blurry vision at once, to try and let my visual mind breathe again? I was lonely too? That I would have been welcomed or accepted being a distressed daww-pled mare all decorated handsomely in expensive flowing throes of colorful thick ribbons and gleaming twinkling streamers and awaiting some puffy, adolescent lacy bottom to bend my spine in light... ... then my possession's mounted by some adolescent useless bonafide owner - about to throw them off far enough that they end up in the duck pond some ten yards away... ... YES-SSS. Lonely ponies are made alone - Ponies don't only suffer, it's known? Folded, doting manifested insolence... With horse shoes, what's the difference? The ice below their bottom shifted, causing them to sag in their chair precisely when mother entered to ask if they were okay yet? Gotten over being thrown away... from the possession they warranted - as a lifeless possession, see? I hope I'm left alone. One little pony... still lonely? Just like everyone else. You see? You get me. NEXT! Still lonely, a single little pony We ponies alone and ever only We're all only little lonely ponies. We are... in fact... all lonely. As the last horse, of course? Lemme tell you, grass is BAD-ASS. Chew your cud an' shut up already. You get me? ... neigh-sayers stay lonely. Next.
