01/12/3013 - THEY TELL ME IT SPINS

They tell me it spins just as much as it teases. The edges of this fluffy, fuzzy mischief are not to be darned with, the man with a screwdriver in each of his eight grey pockets told me so. None of them were denim and his hands never did slide down to fondle the handles. He told me to get the word out before it got too late in the month and his wife and children demanded that he returned to hell with the rest of his merry band of foretellers. I thought he was gay though I have been wrong about this sort of thing before.

I don’t carry any priors a priori to my weedy initiation. I’m a gentleman with a few wisps of hair across his pockmarked cheek and I deserve to carry and then wield a cane. I OWN HALF OF THIS INDUSTRIAL LAND SIMPLY BY BEING HERE WITHOUT A SINGLE SCRAP OF BAGGAGE. Yes, this land will do the trick, plenty of room to graze and make up the horrid laughter that my brain usually does while on hold for something more extradited. Soon enough I will own every brick, have it in my grasp despite the mortar.

            Controllers tell me you know how to tangle hot blonde girls with 10-ton weights but I want to see how its possible and if you’re lying from your fire escape while you do it. I suppose you can’t trust a man with a ladder strapped to his back but, in this crazy version of today, who can you trust then employ then trust again? Not this chap surely, the ribbons in my hat must recite the fact that I am not a lad or a bloke nor even the kind of thing they usually ridicule. I’m a short treaty of summits in human guise, throwing around arms and legs like a conman would do shapes and shadows. I’m just glad to be here without a stitch on whilst you all energise whatever it is that you count on as brutality. If early mornings do suit then throw the self around for a while until you can shake off the need, the lust to revert back. IT HAPPENS.

            Halfway across the world now, the crimes are vastly outrunning the deviants who are inspired by them. This is natural of course, the material living on ahead of the little things that follow in its impressive wake. Dogs may yip but so long as cars whiz by we’ll never have to worry about getting hit by multiple batons under a radiant orb. There should be something sufficiently escape-proof up ahead provided that you don’t wake up whilst it’s coming up. Do you have even an iota of dance in that subtle frame of yours? The people want to see a wench on her last legs, not a person with some useful capabilities. They came here to see you drop ahead of your time. Failure will not be accepted, not while the itinerary has a lasting effect.