Dying - you can't do that to a cat.
Even boredom should be described with gusto. How many things are happening on a day when nothing happens?
I'm fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.
But they know about us, they know, the four corners, and the chairs nearby us. Discerning shadows also know, and even the table keeps quiet.
You can find the entire cosmos lurking in its least remarkable objects.
I'm drowning in papers.