tweeting in the natural fashion not like twatters in the digital way, right out there beyond the bedroom windows from their condos in the trees--- happy to be alive in the morning &
thrusting down penetrating into filling up & losing sight of all rationality, where the grip of what’s left to be human comes vibrating up through the spine making each one
didn’t think that living again was an option, after having drained out every last bit like the puss n’ blood from a zit & the extract dripping down your once-young face reminds
so can you ever be free from those whom you thought you did your best to leave in the past? certainly only senility may be compassionate enough to wipe the slate clean,
morning brought with it a cooling dawn, one which seemed to flush away all the heat accumulated during the night before, what with the haze of humidity & the global warming deep fry