9 april

thinking i know better is a sure way to butter the batter up to swing and to fry and to let fly mistakes that take cakes and pull up steaks to surf the turf to some other lumpy shore and no cure for the foolish but a brook full of babble and a hardscrabble wonder how the blunders still pile over accidental miles because i can't do up close and the moat's too small to stall out in but too wide to hide in and i swim underwise to surprise the attack that was meant as a greeting but still self-defeating enough that it's a tough channel to tune into and a hallway too long to stride out of like a glove that keeps getting stuck so no struckface challenges ensue and there's just one left here eating a shoe