Time is a wind that keeps blowing in my face and mumbling words that don't make sense.
Time is a wind that keeps blowing in my face and mumbling words that don't make sense.
In every room there is a mirror before which he stands attentively and chews his rage, and from the constant chewing, from the grumbling and mumbling and the muttering and cursing his jaws have gotten unhinged and they sag badly and, when he rubs his beard, pieces of his jaw crumble away and he's so disgusted with himself that he stamps on his own jaw, grinds it to bits with his big heels.
Mumbling obeisance to abhorrence of apartheid is like those lapsed believers who cross themselves when entering a church.
I'm not much into current electronic stuff, what I think of as lounge electronics, mumbling electronics.
He was saying, mumbling, something like, 'She's the devil,' talking about the mom, saying, 'She's the devil,' and some other nonsense I couldn't really make out.
At times you can hear voices at night, like mumbling. I would hear like ladies screaming and kids talking like at a distance. I would follow the voice. The closer I would get, it would keep moving. I would walk inside the gin and I'd hear it outside.
My nerves are still frazzled. I can't talk without stuttering, muttering and mumbling.
I don't want to be that guy mumbling into his drink at a bar.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories