19/07/2013 - IT'S NOT BIRTHING RIGHT

                It's not birthing right, it's riding out the bomb with exact zero so that you'll become unstoppable and remain unstoppable. Otherwise there is a limit to your vision. Jesus compares your evolution to a doe falling over rosary beads, swimmingly. It looks nice and, in doing so, is positively distracting. Come along now, my dear commandment, your hair floats like an archer's in the materiel. Mix up the signals for fourscore years and that shit will happen to you. How do you like the plain supernatural mania I'm spewing from my bile? It's so bad, I agree but I've got to get to you for your to understand the doorstop. I'll help you up at least.

                He won't, the man in the peaking darkness. He makes Hawaii into its own dramatic interpretation, bladed and fruitful and powered by flammable teeth. The message on the gums is a blistering one, like a motorbike sliding by in the creepy malt water. It's your tour and you come to do what you want with it, he won't stop you. I might though simply because the pigs and hogs and critics are squealing for the toast at the party they were never invited to. It almost makes me apologetic in its stubbly self-made way. I get trapped, embedded within the political undercurrent and end my days with salad and crime novels.

                How these actors do so well with the Spanish is beyond my mere mortal landscape. How they constantly strive to provide plot points in the adversity of simpering invasion is baffling to say the least. Can you remember where half the deities came from? They took their theta polls and planted them into the blindside of a small Israeli woman's faux passport. It was an act of revenge that neither party knew about or even understood. Instead they mumbled something about semblance and dazzling video effect and split before the eruption began interrupting the sorting and the folding. West is diabetic for 'out of here' apparently so let's explore that theory with hats on and instruments in check.

                The president sends her regards of course, not that the pomp is worth the ceremony nor is it outsourced to anyone Mongolian. This is a problem to throw in disrepute and an ongoing issue with dialect, not our dialect but someone's convoluted world of regionalisms. They snapped and continue to snap up the STOP and CLEAR signs with ingratiating grimaces tucked up under their armpits. There is slovenly and then there is slovenly. Keep up like the leaky little kelp you claim so vehemently to be. It's neither cosy nor primate but at least the claws retract in an old-fashioned olfactory sort of way. Just a snarl and a bit of a patter and that's your daddy's brother on a bicycle again. Is it his bicycle? Only you can say, I'm being serious here. You didn't remember to save your documents before and now you're in this situation. There will be no zip line pleasantries in this day and age.