Very Few Individuals

Untendered through dire circumstance, Felicia done bit the enlarged peregrine bug burrowing under Frenchie’s Bakery on Hydrangea Court, six exits from the McDonald’s on Nash.

Myself, I tend to bite the largess of the enraged siren-watchers (from the circuitous balcony-tenders on their vacation from daily toiling in the everglade-type peat bogs in lower Georgia (very obscure, you wouldn’t know about them)).

As it stands, very few individuals truly contemplate the serene orange-gargling once espoused by citrus connoisseurs a world over, and I have quite the time attempting to describe the passionate musings of madmen with more brains than common sense.

Grooves – 14:41GMT

Dig the grooves–
fixate raw emotion;
orange teleprompters stimulate senses,
falling down through the psyche.
Pen failings, orangeness
essential in the plunge
to crusty bits of exploded massacres
amongst the windfalls of intoxicating merriment
all boiled down to one endeavor
at one single point in time,
hopscotching on the lines of external graphics.
Internalized choosing–who’s choosing?
Everyone’s choosing! How are we to progress,
we beings,
when we always hark back to the past
and fling names, earthbound, flattening.
Not in the air, not in a museum.

I really wish I could use my arms.
Scratching my head on the walls just won’t cut it.