Some days are better than others

Translate, pontificate, buy a banner. Last one on the floor gets milk in his shoes. What with all that money floating around, someone would surely have something better to say. That's the last time I buy that round of go-gos! Drink till you're fizzy, then burst, flowering, into all oblivion. It's fun, laughable, attainable.

Name something else here. I wasn't tired enough the other night to understand the make of his car. It's elsewhere, you know. Never had much confidence in number three.

Times flies and snack pies,
aloud and wandering far.
Where ears are cold and noses bleed,
and bent beyond the scar.

Take some time off to write a stream of consciousness, they said. Wait, who's they? Oh that's right, it's all the same. I thought of something twice, but nevermind. Raptures and reverends and riots--it's the end of the world, some might say. When you have four different songs playing in your head, does sheet music come spilling out of your ears?

Wait not, want not. Wan and wail and waste away. Twice three albums namibia can try a sled go for thought. Ease and mind are ninety-five, but never more than four down the road, I think.

Tremors.

Apple glue was once a fascination, but now a jar being beans and my isolation. Trust escadero or madness wanes as if a quart of money could buy you more milk.

That's it for now. All comments must be surreal or dada. Thank you for your time...nine...that's fine.