Interestin the blessin of suppressin my stressin, second guessin, and aggression is a lesson I learned to invest in at about eleven. No messin it’s refreshin but my investin subtracts from restin. The pressure pressin is home I’m addressin yet undressin in each session with lines of sketchin, any ink drop of depression is an open profession of self reflection. So my procession is lines of progression in red i’m expressin like it bled through my flesh then softly caressin any distressin indiscretion without repression. No question my impression – it’s more than profession, I’d say obsession and each transgression I line up in succession like a line for confession minus the discretion. My protection from harmful dissection is my word possession in any direction so there’s a connection between my digression and hunger’s digestion without a concession of correction.
Verbose Musings 