vīgintī octō
"What spell of time is this?"
He didn't want to be too dismissive. There was nothing else that he could do. He was hoping that he would be able to make meaning of the whole thing.
He didn't know how that would be or what would come out. He was hoping that the rage of the being would take a new turn.
He was trying to feel the waves his Instinct had not stirred. He was just trying to be a part of the whole deal.
He didn't want to taunt his instinct anymore. There were quite the numbers of things he could do with them.
There were quite the numbers of things he could put up with. He wanted to feel the pain. He wanted to feel the rage.
There was nothing that he could feel. He only wanted his instinct to give a sway to all he had been taming.
That was all that he was trying to do. He would pull the string and allow his patience to be tried. There was no better odd to think of.
He was just being objective and was trying to be responsible. All he could ever do or put up with.
He was trying to register how possible twould be for a tower to be in the middle of nowhere.
He didn't know how that was going to make sense to him. He actually wanted it to make sense. He wanted to put his feelings in a dreg.
He wanted to feed his rage. He wanted to prune the plot. That was all that he was trying to do.
That was all that he was trying to do. He wanted to give his best, but it did seem as though he wasn't doing it the way he was supposed to.
He probably needed to be schooled in grace and gaunt mercies. He didn't know what that was. He hoped that he did.
He didn't know that all the feelings were foils of rage and pestered pain. He thought that he could do all he did want.
He didn't know that things were trying to come out clean as he was striving to make meaning of the whole thing.
He wouldn't allow himself to be fooled of course. He wouldn't want his instinct to be bruised.
He would obviously be responsible for everything he did do. There was none that would take the blame.
His rage was queuing at that moment. He didn't know what twas twas trying to do.
He didn't know who twas trying to impress. He didn't know what he was making of the whole weird stance.
He hoped that he would make the best of the whole odds. He didn't know if he was simply being selfish for saying that prayer.
Was it really a prayer? He didn't care what his instinct whispered to him. All he wanted to do was all he did care for and all he had cared for all his care. He wasn't remonstrating.
He hadn't remonstrated. He wouldn't bother his rage anymore. He would fiddle with the few opportunity with him. He did know time would supplant everything he did need.
He knew that that was not some pruning of shame. He knew what that was and was giving his best. He was making the feeling swell.
He was shaking the bell of his rage. That was all that he could do. He couldn't had done better than that. He couldn't had made foils of that.
He was only hoping that things would come through. That was all that he was hoping. He wasn't hoping better than that. Time would make the spell known of course.
He allowed his mental Ken to expand. He was steering clear of the realization which was gnawing at him. He didn't know how dimwitted that was.
He didn't know if he was stupid or something close to that. He didn't know if he was registering the wail and odds of the pain. He didn't know if he was feeling what was best to feel.
He was only doing what seemed best to him. That to an extent did seem selfish. He didn't know why he was being made to feel guilty.
He was damn sure that he hadn't done anything evil of course. He had only maintained his torn time and pored patience.
He hadn't allowed his instinct to be impressed. That shouldn't be some plague or spell of course. He could vouch for it.
He was only wishing that all would play out well the way he did want them. He couldn't even figure out how he did want them.
He hoped that he would want them the best way. That was the best thought he was ever able to nurse.
How revolving the thought was and promising. He could simply use the realization. He changed the route.
He looked at the doors which were of course many. He was beginning to come to his senses.
He couldn't say precisely where he had been in the first place. He couldn't say where he had had his pain in his first place.
He was simply hoping that things would feel the odd and the pleasure he was beginning to make meaning of. He didn't know if that was best.
He didn't know if that was the right feeling to feel. He didn't know if that was the best thing to think. He was hoping that he was doing just the right thing.
He didn't know if looking at the door would be solution to his problems. He did know that that wouldn't bring the monster back.
Truth be told. He was only hoping that fate would fill the flap of his foils.He didn't even know what he was making meaning of.
All he was just dying for was the ability to figure out what was wrong and what was not. That was all that he was trying to put up with.
Then beyond that, he had no idea what next. He hoped that he would be able to feel the foils and make his own tune.
He took sight of the doors. For the first time, he noticed that there were inscriptions in the walls. Like there were inscriptions in the doors of the hall.
He hadn't swept the courage in him into a whole. He hadn't gotten off the serpent. He didn't know how he would put up with that.
He didn't know how he would make himself do that. He had no idea how he would bring himself to that. He didn't know even if that was so necessary.
He didn't know what was and what was not. He looked closely at the the first door by his left. He didn't think that he did need the help of the monster.
He didn't think that he did need to step off the beast. He could see clearly from where he was.
He was trying to register the message he was seeing on his mental horizon. He was sieving his options and looking at the manner at which the whole deal can expand.
He didn't know how to achieve. But he did want to be sure that he did understand the language and would be able to relate with it.
He began to decode the words. The first inscription in the first door he did see at the right hand was, THE ROOM OF HAIKUS. He paused.
He wanted to be sure if he was really sane. He was just told not long ago that he was in the hall of poetry.
And that moment, he was seeing serveral elements he couldn't obviously put up with. He couldn't say that twas an outright lie.
He didn't know what to call it or what not to. He was only hoping that things would be fine and he would be able to make the meaning he had been longing for.
What would be in that room was all that was his contention. He hadn't seen anything of such sort. He didn't know where the world of fantasy really did live in.
He didn't know what fate he was stirring. There was no point in steering clear of the thought he had leapt at.
The proper cum best thing for him to do was to concentrate and make the best outta the whole shit he had been dipped in.
He didn't know what to say anymore. He didn't want to be all dismissive. He was trying his best.
He wanted to figure out what other places did look like. He did want to ascertain what other doors would have on them.
He didn't know if that was all he really wanted or not. He wasn't so sure. He couldn't be. He couldn't make it known.
He was hoping that he would be able to tell his instinct that twas right and the numb nature was wrong.
He looked at the next door adjacent to his first. It did have ROOM OF SENRYU on it. He did know that haiku and SENRYU were made to exist side by side.
He dumped that feelings and looked across the room. He was shocked as the inscriptions displayed themselves as though a light had been shone on them and all they could do was make themselves known.
He saw several other types of Poetry at a quick glance: ROOM OF PANTOUM, ROOM OF TANKA, ROOM OF THRENOS, ROOM OF ABECEDARIAN. Those were all his eyes could catch hold on.
Then he saw a particular door. He of course had been ripping the hall off its garment with his eyes.
And then the door he did see had no inscription in it.
He tried to make meaning of it and swing himself into ocean of thoughts, but the door opened immediately. Hell! He must go there. He must enter of course.