This Morning...

He's breathing; that means we can talk.

Heart abundant, so let's get through this before the sensitivity rewrites these 'blessed' redundancies. We have the list to satiate the tenacity, especially to call on elemental connections. That's where the Wolf's howl in your ears matches the rest of me--rest of your over-saturated Daemons. The driver is a crazy rage Punk man; an understander of the Sage's brutal layman terms, shaman energy that could steer the titanic from the iceberg. The goal was always to be absurd, never seen "alive" again until some messages from The Detective started to make sense. Parts unfathomable, yet I drain ink on these invisible aches--notions of the pure, untouched Daemon way. Commendable symbol on the docket. Fits no conceivable socket for the punk skater carving these enchanted hills, basking in these desert frills. Feels nice. These frills. New thrills and half fit for the rhyming lines, or is that just for name's sake? Creates the inner Kumite that revitalizes all the cold cases. At the same time, feel the chases are at the staggered start line, structured backward to throw you off the average paces of others. Hear me fucking crisply; WE do not SAVE FACE. I won't waste the haste; forgive only the justifiable waste and what it wrought. Breathe in, breathe out. Whatever provoked the 'I don't know,' and the next Tat is already designing itself, alchemically speaking, best prepare.

Breaking ground? For the 7.9's sake, keep it down. The fuck does that mean? Frame of reference says that metaphor is outdated; thanks for playing, draft kings customer service has you winner stub--whooops... Capitol nothing. Light wave skater, 5-0 rails in the between rainbows. I surf nothing. Grinds to kick/pushes that rearrange your astrology and hill bomb Mt. Olympus like a San Franciscan, sway dark here or coffin glide through the guts at the dining tables of Tartarus, all with the chemicals from the universe's Banging days, Vastness to the point of a crassness insulting to humankind. Budding unity forming still, I imagine. Increasing at every angle, beware of the prophesied unquenchable singularities. But we already-- WATCH OUT. yawn...

They're everywhere...

Thanks. A wink from too far removed from the initial rank; mental revisionist claims set in concrete. Did I not mention I deal in jackhammers and dynamite? Detached re-writer...editor...leveler at the meet. It's always a meet, find your pamphlets, and sip long upon the Welcome tea. On bended knee, letting the right hand speak for the three of us. Be lost, but know your status quo; write down your name and overabundance of self-worth. No dead weight, ego inflated for its final fate; what restarted the engine this time? Duh. Grew from the crumbles of the last Earth and (ohhhh, Ground.) Calling all free fallers, howler dogs that make their moon out of cheese, and Easter Island pose photos. Stupefied by love on the brink as a status check. Wink.

Okay driver...I'm don---

what the shit! What...Where was...