agesxracer

There are no sides by which to stand.  At one point I was a better person, so I am.  Corwin: where is my suicide note?  I ask from the shaking stick at moon rambling tremors.  Remember that only poetry isn't.  Can someone help me climb out of this?  Crusted flatware on my writing desk.  Tony: I've never been afraid of you, just that you might be right.  Or correct, rather: right from the right.  The next time I see a mirror I'm going to break down.  Every second is precipitous.  Only in the last few days have senile-precocious thoughts sewn my disasters together.  But communication isn't allowed and tragedy does not exist.  However, Madison s

badoooooooooooooooooooo boop badooooooooooooooooooooooo bed jumping to follow! up over on the (CLIK-CLACKE-CLIK)  get the bowl down: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu something's snapped!  i remember CLAKCLAKCLAKCLAKCLAK what to fix however the decrescendo the tap which is what i love most because as words itisimpossible to find a meter rock-back-and-forth want to find beneath the keysssss below the decressssssssssendo maybe i should sing all the time now i am singing can't you hear the melody?

You fall off a great stuttering cliff with a thousand monkeys watching from the leafy highlands of Ethiopia and only marvel at the beauty you experience in a fall like this—noticing every burling crack and crevice, every startled ibex beneath changing its footing to avoid being smashed by your tumbling body.  Chuckling, you reach for branches after realizing how you actually fell from the cliff side (you slipped in fox dung), but these attempts are in vain as the velocity at which you are falling is much too much to stop a flailing, plummeting human—any branch you actually are able to get a hold of is simply stripped of its waxy lea