Sure, lets begin here, I’m drunk and my two bottom legs are missing. I’m coming home to you Maurice as soon as I can find the lock. I told Freddy. He told Wendy. I was inaugurating speeches left right and center.
Giv’n the perspective my state of mind and the aching blue of my bunions will grease crease the line. “I’m not the type you are” I told MaryBethJo. I think flying low whilst swimming is the better alternative.
Myline sheathes lie embedded through the whole lot of this breakfast. Bowlin up life outside me / inside me. I took to eating chocolate fluff in Berlin but they jarred in linear sweet sweet. Sugar is not a vegetable miss stein said. My oats tell my chia seeds they love each tiny one of them. A lot. This brings tears to my eyes.
Unexpected breakfasts consist of everyday burp ups, dyspeptic socialisms. For instance fried eggs on coconut cake. Hold the icing. Being exceptionally hungry makes a tin of sweet corn yellow. I love you sweet corns I say. Gee theres a lot of yellow in here. Yellow is a breakfast color. Just like formica is often wet.
I’m thinking of telling you something but I wouldn’t. It’s too late anyway. I’m starting again. What? You can go to hell … is this brisket l told the lot of them. Sure no worries … what will be will be she used to think of saying sometimes said. I said it 3 times already. Maybe you weren’t listening. Maybe they haven’t changed a lot. Still it comes on and on if you’d like to throw now? No? You know? We can work it out surely. Hay wait a mini tit.
from Conversational Poetry- majena mafe