remembering a worm child as he plugs a finger into a watery ballast monger then spews the remains of the day over some repulsive unstable old oaf. lest it be an unseemly end to the day before it even begins there’ll be much iprocurement flurries to unburden yourself of trail after trail after trail whereupon the one time you really need to boil an ocean your kitchen doesn’t have a kettle and you can either buy the kettle which won’t work when you change your kitchen or change your kitchen which has the new kettle in go on heave up and fragment but please don’t touch the beastly random apparatus like those 15th century french undercrofts full of boils.
its not ok. protect yourself immediately from the tiny chuffs of deliverance by really doing something rather than just shoving a hollow cracked-up billboard of self experience. you know it might mean something to you but really we’re not convinced that you’ve even moved your chair in the last 2 years so it goodbye from me and its goodbye from him and high on mumble its a tedious extraction of all that is ping. next to you waste your notes on pie and mashchester soap features remember the singer that looks like dave and find that they’re actually living in the same tiny bucket. what else might you need. it’ll blow over at random. by 1 o’clock I’ll be melting lard into a ferret.
I would though.