20/07/2013 - THOUGHTS TURN TO HESITATION

                Thoughts turn to hesitation and the punch comes in between. Let's all sing along for the runt's reality - it's only partially mine these days. Strictly speaking, emptiness is easily vanquished with admission to the league of the moving conscience. Capitalisation comes much later on in the process so please don't expect too much from the saleable dance.  We're just thankful to still be in business after all these years of hardship and foxy one-liners. It's the nonchalance that really kills the senses, not to mention the wallet too. How am I doing for ironic hypocrisy? Still chewing on the gauntlet but ah well.

                Meanwhile the friendship between our two distinguishable friends, Tammy and Erasmus is blossoming into something rarely orgasmic. The tapping and the wrapping and the sapping are all scripted in the orange volume, the one wedged underneath your desk lid. Pull it out or pluck it, it's always going to be at your own peril. There's nothing yellow about romance but Tammy and Erasmus do seem to be getting paler outside each other's company. It's special like a pencil dipped in ink and thrown into a quiet cat's hidden cove. The dead-eyed mass of life proceeds to grind our two lovebirds down into a fine hand-holding mush of lost sea puns. Prepare the union - that time, that time, that time is curling its toes again. It's a touch metaphysical once again.

                The bearded dental Augustine cartel is transferring and outsourcing its methods of speaking to ancient African tribes in the hopes that their spears will trounce the dead air before the caller finally hangs up for good. It's fragrant, made of the flimsiest peach extracts from the bottom of the widest ocean liner. Could you ever forget the captain's jowl? It was all beady and warring, rather unnecessary in its own way. Somehow we made a priceless heirloom moot and that's no small feat, it's a pounding of epic proportion. For once I use epic appropriately, I still refuse to even touch legendary. Aside from the obvious of course, the words are touching up the make-out peaks of the world, spreading monolithic party tricks through osmosis of the liver. Trivial but adequately impressive.

                We mustn't be too hard on Erasmus for taking Tammy for granted, she is a tad on the short side and as a result hates to tap dance. Erasmus has a growing fondness for tap dance and as a result is completely unaware of how taxing it can be for loved ones without happy feet. It breaks family's apart, that sort of business, it revokes memories into the Lazy Susan of centurion existence. As the greens go for the habitats of small woodland creatures, all we are left with is the possibility that charm isn't as cut-up as it allows itself to be. The walls are squeezing the edges out of the kinks and chinks so the only way out is through osmosis again. Hold hands with Tammy: she knows the way out.