utter

To utter,

You are in a room. You live with the objects of the room. You take it for granted that the objects of the room are supposed to be in the room. Like you take for granted of a metaphor.

Because we are supposed to know what transfer means.To transfer the meaning onto something else that looks like it in a simpler or untold (of) way. You take it for granted because it is there in language and thus it has been said. But it has not.

And so I choose, in an afternoon when I do not remember whether I have slept really or not,or spend the night with eyes closed without escaping to a world of unsconsiousness to consciously get out of the room.

I hover over it. And look at the objects that are alike and those are supposed not to exist or to exist because we demand that they do. I quiver at loss and am enthuzed by birth. I hover over. Over the room and over sleep.

I utter simple words in search of utter...pleasure or achievement.

Whether pleasure in achievement or achievement in my pleasure I figured it does not really matter, so long as I am blessed to hover over ...

and that allows me to relish in the utter...

an adjetive that may fit everything...