Ivory, Fluid, Exodus, Fruit, Irony, Flute - eight in all. So
many variable Ice Ages have passed since I was found to be this lovely. People
licked my icy abdomen to date my current body but it unfortunately closed down
without a minute's hesitation. The radio has become decidedly pedagogic. You
found the right tunes in the dawn's year spasm oil seeping right out from
between hot potato legs. She lacked focus but she meant well, she had faith for
the exterior landscape. And you, the relatable carrot, respected her viewpoint
all over again. All. Over. Again. Again. Shit, man.
Seeking
to allay tails by sloshing in fisherman's boots will show all subordinates your
fear and its fussy underbelly. The comedy of milk glass eyes hum almost
inaudibly so be a dear and detach your recent events. While artists produce
detrimental pencils, looking up becomes an entirely different direction. A bowl
full of money: it makes the toothy pegs white and whiny. Ignorance and nobility
would probably kill the mutually inclusive. At once now, go at once to the
hatch and feel the pressure's dagger-like observation. Climb on down, gentle
whimper, fall to your reprisal in the form of a barn with ancient enormity at
its axis. Like some faraway postcard of a missing man with a missing hand. The
truth in bottle rasps, just like they did it in the eighties. The floodgates,
remember?
Meanwhile
the fanfares are blaring up all over the shop, the hardware department store
with its hives in check. The elderly Spanish gentleman has murderous intentions
towards MSG so you are advised to lay down the melancholy burden of sanitary
towels, gathering them up to wipe the banners of all unsightly red marks.
Marching cools you down but outright conquering merely dusts your knuckles into
holy endeavours barring exceptional circumstance. Whithersoever the legendary
encapsulation of ‘OF’ is the one true outcome to all virtuous soot bartering.
Half a prayer will get you set up just aces so you really only need to get your
suit set up and laid out on the nameless desk. Train like fingers in the
meantime. Eyes may bulge but your fingers must be strong again.
Enrichment.
The master calls for enrichment, his cult will be grown from the very grass of
enriched soil and tasted to measure by the blackened spheres just to prove
their holiness and flat pack collection. The power dampener jars and thruts and
calls out for takeaway in the middle of the golden drowning of dawn into dusk.
It's now or never but the negativity of the negation is just irresponsible for
the naked naked flesh and the English teacher with her empty cages and throaty
chuckles at the expense of the scrotal short term. Either way it's not for us
to decide anymore than it is for us to buy a cup of coffee for ourselves or to
play the trombone whilst reciting the Hindi proverbs that have cordoned off our
imaginations and sketched them with apron strings.
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