Straighten out our family life, tag down the derivative poor that
cascade from our conversation, shamelessly plug our individual, independent
novels and novellas and then struggle all the way to the same bus stop to meet
the same end. This is the world’s axis being a funny little liar with the 555th nose sandwiched on record, this is the
politics that it spreads out with even fingers and waking dog tails. It’s
creamy. It’s irresponsible. It’s aiming for its own campaign for next year,
involving mechanical dinosaurs and grand football schematics. I wrote, directed
and starred in a modelling career so, for the next part of my life, I’ll
probably write, direct and star in a model citizen’s downward spiral.
This is my follow feature and it is
delightful with its ad revenue, it doesn’t go on like all the rest, it rests
for a bit and instead moves on with alien speed and tarantula dignity. The
light crossing my clout is enough to set the staircase alight with commentary
tropes and watch how you cross it with your hands on all the rails, you’ll get
burnt by something like a rope without a heart. It spurns me on but God knows
what it’ll do to a speaker like you, it might just twist your hairy fairy
nipples off with open dignitary positioning skills. This makes for shameless
television and this is how we shall make up the funds for funds lost overseas
during the flag-waving in last year’s sportsmanship.
You
make it so you know, you tie things up with personal truth and hide it in your
best suitcase with the hopes that it will transfer and separate linen from its
coloured operatives. There's nothing else to be said for the triangulation,
there is so much hope to be had here with suits in hot, sweaty rooms that
exhibit plain tartan boxes to opulent graces of the lord. You just live like we
do, you live it right out to the beginning and wear all your rings with perfect
design and doubt nothing short of gossip in its hurly-burly terms. This is just
like the time we entered a dreamscape without the proper security enforcement
protocol, we died in each other's arms and the US forces came barging in to
steal some postcards for memorabilia. Kick me harder and I might return to some
red-cheeked joviality. I work hard every day to ache my bones back into shape.
Morphologically
speaking, the days we were out like a light were the days where all key events
transpired, as if the world decided to make some new loose ends in our silence.
They exploited our being far away with each other to save themselves the benefit
payment. Of course, they shan't get away with it while there's still a book in
my pocket and breath in your song. We have poetry to graffiti, souls to torment
with our chicken soup recipes that go on for absolutely ages. Let them move
from topic to topic in perspiration.
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