justwrite 8 august

when i get depressed it's a mess like a nest growing chiclets instead and it's a sticky click of the pen to write a story to bite my sleep in half and carry the graph paper around the corner to warn the sorter of impending disorder a washer and a dryer crying fire in the fryer and dumping all those frozen potato sticks on linoleum lips tripping the molecules amassing on their way to the trash can budgeting for the slowdown certain to occur the procurement of unintentional retention snapping off the peas and queues and impatient as all get out on their way to elsewhere something there much more entertaining restrained from going along and counting the throng from afar as pleasantly flowing without going and screwing it all up with a broken cup to sip from and complain about while spouting loose tooth tales and flailing unnecessarily glum thumbs catching a ride no one no one would want to and riding it straight through to the other side you wish you could hide at least until the company's gone but it's my fault and my cult of personality to believe in to deceive twin clone superdrone automatons from going on and on in far-gone guesses with stresses on every joint the anointment wearing off with scoffing winds winding down and calendar crowns slipping off the last of the great bales full of potential no great shakes to milk there and none of your ilk should care if i have anything to say about it and i do i'll shout it easily but the squeeze you'll see from the side view is out of proportion it's a sideshow distortion so caution in your consideration though i shy away from moderation and conversation though elevation and condensation are still safe and may save this nation