manuscriptx
New Member
CK ain't stepping on those or anyone else's toes besides mine. The ring around the cozy bed has the smell of pot tripping over the feather blanket in search of a twisting confusion. That reminds me; I meant to ask this next question. Why do birds fall down from the tree? Why does one sentence go on forever? Why does a simple water incline soar down from above and under the sky of brilliant tinsel used to clear the color off the paint and wreck loose that which is right?
At this hit is in within my breath that the stink holes exist; quite a turn around to be obsessed. The human grey matter is off from its ugly stain. Its quiver shakes my mind and we wonder why often. Why does it stay after an evening of elusive dreams? Why matter at all? Why the Amish present at every corner; an illusion that a set of options still exist for the cow before it enables rumbling off to pasture knowing that in just a short while it will be food once again for the weary. Why do we fall in love or get hungry sometimes? Why do we even care? You take my mind for example; there are some instances with which; what do is we owe that to their risk. The circumstances don't ask for anything. They just follow us anywhere we wish to go. They lend themselves right into the slaughter and that is only one that I didn't think of quite yet. They give us pleasure. They give us a sorted blue bird. The blue bird that doesn’t fly quite right; the blue bird that matters all the time; that preys. That will fish and hunt on sight. The kind of fish that can swim a call or command; the kind of trained monkey that tips the scales at over 400 pounds; the kind of kid that would wonder what life is like all around. The kind of one that would think there are quite many wonders to be afraid of; the kind of sorted person that thinks; that is.
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Click here to see the enhanced version ( pictoral image ).
Venture Perspective
At this hit is in within my breath that the stink holes exist; quite a turn around to be obsessed. The human grey matter is off from its ugly stain. Its quiver shakes my mind and we wonder why often. Why does it stay after an evening of elusive dreams? Why matter at all? Why the Amish present at every corner; an illusion that a set of options still exist for the cow before it enables rumbling off to pasture knowing that in just a short while it will be food once again for the weary. Why do we fall in love or get hungry sometimes? Why do we even care? You take my mind for example; there are some instances with which; what do is we owe that to their risk. The circumstances don't ask for anything. They just follow us anywhere we wish to go. They lend themselves right into the slaughter and that is only one that I didn't think of quite yet. They give us pleasure. They give us a sorted blue bird. The blue bird that doesn’t fly quite right; the blue bird that matters all the time; that preys. That will fish and hunt on sight. The kind of fish that can swim a call or command; the kind of trained monkey that tips the scales at over 400 pounds; the kind of kid that would wonder what life is like all around. The kind of one that would think there are quite many wonders to be afraid of; the kind of sorted person that thinks; that is.
_____________________________________________________________
Click here to see the enhanced version ( pictoral image ).
Venture Perspective