22/06/2014 - THERE SHE IS IN THE SILENT MOMENT

There she is in the silent moment, three o’clock and giving it her all to climb a humble oak tree.

Some might say that she’s right there but we could just take her down in that case with a bow and arrow which we obviously can’t and shouldn’t.

Therefore

Let’s wait her out and feed off of her psychological pathology, scrambled as it is with a side of lemongrass ham and splayed out by the mischief of men she was taught by; their tears and whimpers in cloak rooms.

Strictly

It’s all training and deserving of sponsorship, orange as burnt acres and the boys that dare to cross them in their coal shoes and matey bruising.

Getting good has never been so place-holding: form the words that tongue can’t tell from adventures in the woods with animatronic bears and their sheet-wearing cousins that load up with cardigan bullets and white compressed microphones.

Just say thank you and you’ll never want for long grammar again, the woods will shut up their berries in Glaswegian ministries for the novelists to drink up and kill for their honeybee masters.

Searing pain and extreme cases of hallucination on a busy bus journey to an undetermined destination

 

Cut it down for her and her army of healthy shout outs to blameless individuals in their sleepy waking and hive mind screaming. Grab your camouflage jackets and let the levee pale in significance for once rather than theatrical echo effect without all the crude drawings of children’s book illustrators and their crummy runners on their clammy catwalks. Bravo can blue up the cabins, graduate the occupants to a new now level of eel elevator so that fresh power sources can be speculated on with all the gift horse economics if an inaudible shutterbug. Don’t say something while nothing is on the table, all that the people really want to hear now is they’re haircuts resemble Poseidon and all his hoary restaurant chains.

Gifted

Get your fingers out with a little black dear chewing on her own tincture for fear that the Lycos

Times out and thanks will call the leaves into boycotting down

The river with the rest of the scallop. If only the easy would smile in their composition

And then we can shake them off with hold-ups and heists. You try. You replicate. You supper.

We sup.

Supple Armouries.

I’ll stay guarded as long as she remains unscathed by reburied goodies

 

Come and kiss this pain away with unkind truthism and let’s see how the Italian sopranos will interpret with their warbling penchants for unwavering retching of spiritual debate. The right honourable leading lady would like to raise the gate but she hasn’t read enough Russian literature so there’s been argument in the pretty rain because walking out of the door will only lead to thousands crying Uncle, Uncle, Umbilical Comeback! Wire-walking, we’re all just living without her on a teetering spot.

24 hours later: Simple handles bereft of commentated eyebrows

48 HOURS LATER: RIGHT IN THE ADDICTIVE FACE