Fictional Caper

This feels too much like deja vu, the days and nights of a biblioklept. It’s what the book-bosomed must do, taking in every chapter as you slept. Being such an omnilegent person it’s hard to run across something fresh. Reading’s such pure introverted fun, with each word I want gooseflesh. I wander to each town bouquiniste on the lookout for a page turner. I’m hungry for a clever plot twist, that story that’s an acid burner. There is no place I would rather be then inhaling the scent of this paper. Serene and content in a lectory escaping into a wild fictional caper. I love to go running through my head inside a space where I have no phobia. While in reality I am filled with dread suffering from debilitating abibliophobia.